Blood Storm
by Maikle E. Blackwood
Summary: After a tragic accident leading to the loss of a long time friend, an Egyptian Dark-Huntress is relocated to New Orleans to recover. There, she runs into an oblivious young demigoddess who will change her life forever.
1. Prologue

A/N: Hiya! I'm back with another Dark-Hunter fic! Like before, this is a collaborative effort between Black Dragon Valkyrie and myself, created via roleplay on DeviantArt. There have been some significant edits to this one, so please excuse any incongruities and/or grammatical or spelling errors. And, again, I will be posting the entire story all at once, so please bear with it!

If you enjoy, please favourite, follow, and review. And don't forget to check out my other stories, as well as BDV's. (Link to BDV's profile: u/4792802/Black-Dragon-Valkyrie )

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Title: Blood Storm

Universe: Dark-Hunter (by Sherrilyn Kenyon)

Summary: After a tragic accident leading to the loss of a long time friend, an Egyptian Dark-Huntress is relocated to New Orleans to recover. There, she runs into an oblivious young demigoddess who will change her life forever.

Rating: M for language, violence, and sexual content

Main Characters: Scara Behdeti Sebak (ME.B), Katrina Susano-o Tachibana (BDV)

Other Characters: Acheron Parthenopaeus (SK), Soteria Parthenopaeus (SK), Taylor Trujillo (ME.B), Demetrius Redoak (BDV), Jaden (SK), Zarek of Moesia (SK) [with appearances from many others; all rights to their respective owners]

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 _ **AD 10, Egypt**_

Behdeti hummed quietly to herself as she slid the pristine white gown from her rich, cocoa-cream shoulders and stepped naked into the Nile, dipping down to wet her long onyx locks. Near her, the sun was setting behind her family's home of sparkling white marble, beating down on the black shores of the river where her husband's family had made their fortune for centuries.  
She didn't really love her husband-the marriage had been arranged by her poor but prestigious father-but she enjoyed the wealthy life she lived now. Horemheb, her husband of almost fifteen years, was much older than her, but that was normal in this day and age. She hadn't protested the marriage, knowing it was her duty, and she thanked the gods daily for the child she'd given life to ten years ago, after two miscarriages had shattered hope of bearing any offspring. Her son, Amenhapu, was the light of her life; she adored him more than anything else in the world, and for that, she gave her husband the respect and devotion he deserved.  
Horemheb had just returned that day from a long trip and was listening to the servant of the house, Atu's report. Behdeti knew her husband would want to lay with her when that was finished, so she was bathing to be clean for him when he called. Amenhapu had just bid her goodnight, and the caregiver would be putting him to bed now.  
As the sun-warmed water slid across her skin, she thanked the gods again for her life, her husband, and especially her son.  
Suddenly, there was a scream from her home. She looked up sharply, fear gripping her. Had one of her husband's enemies found them and attacked? Splashing out of the river, she raced back, not caring that she was indecently clad; she would take whatever punishment Horemheb gave her, so long as he and Amenhapu were safe.  
A scream of her own echoed from the walls at the sight of her husband sprawled on the floor with a knife sticking out of his chest. Blood spread in a quickly widening circle around him, a horrendous shade of red against the white perfection of marble. Atu was nowhere to be seen.  
"Amenhapu!" she breathed, terrified for her son. She ran to his room, slipping on blood and dashing her head against a cornerstone. She ignored the pain flaring through her skull, ignored the blood coating the entire right side of her face, ignored the now-sightless eye, and darted into Amenhapu's room without thought. Immediately as she entered, someone grabbed her, putting a hand over her mouth to muffle her screams. She thrashed, until she caught sight of the small body lying beside his dead caregiver. Then she went limp, horrified. She did nothing as the intruder had his way with her, her mind and body numb to everything as she stared into the lifeless eyes of her child, her beloved Amenhapu.  
When the man slit her throat, she welcomed the slow death that followed, punishment for not protecting her son. But when the man moved on to her boy, defiling the corpse of her precious son, fury flooded her, washing away the numbness. She screamed her agony to Sekhmet, goddess of vengeance, pleading for revenge against the intruder who had killed her husband and raped her dead child.  
It wasn't Sekhmet that answered.

 ** _August 29th, 2005_**

Everyone thinks that Hurricane Katrina came because of Zeus and Apollo.  
They couldn't be further from the truth.  
The real cause was not a god, or a daimon or even a demon. It actually was a human. A tiny human girl who was only just born when the hurricane struck New Orleans. This storm was not only the death for many in the city, but the birth of one very special child.  
The mother was a Scottish woman who had moved to the states when she was a young child; with dark red hair and bright blue eyes, a lean build and almost snow colored skin. The father was a Japanese who had come to the United States a few years previously; with glossy black hair and dark brown eyes, a lanky build and light tan skin.  
Their daughter was born with the same glossy black hair and light tan skin as her father and her mother's bright blue eyes. The little girl was named Katrina Susano-o Tachibana.  
And no one just knew what this little girl would bring to the world. And she only had to reach maturity...

 ** _Five years later_**

The same girl was walking around a growing New Orleans with her mother, going through the streets of downtown and through the thongs of people that still came every year even after the terrible storm that nearly completely wiped the city.  
They were passing a building when the little girl looked up and saw a very tall man. He was dressed all in black and had dark hair that hung to his hips and wore dark shades. Something about his aura made his lethal to everyone around him...  
But not to little Katrina.  
She grinned up at the man as she tugged on her momma's sleeve. "Look mommy!" This caught the man's attention and made him look down at her. She grinned wider. "A giant!" The man gave her a small smile, but her mother shivered at the sight of the man and started to pull her daughter away.  
"Don't talk to people like him. All they are is trouble; no good, hooligans." She whispered harshly as she pulled her five year old around a corner. Katrina frowned at her mother's words and turned her head to look back at the tall goth man again. He was watching them walk away and cast her a small smile again. This time, she smiled back before she was pulled around the corner.


	2. Chapter 1

**_Present day_**

Katrina sighed as she rolled her eyes and snapped her phone shut before entering her house. Her mother had called _again_ to yell at her for having a man who wasn't family living with her. Her father had died three years earlier while fighting in war while saving another soldier's life, earning himself the Purple Heart which Katrina kept in a mini shrine in the house in his honor.  
Her father's family had been fairly rich and left everything to her. The first thing she did was pay off her student loans and move out of her parents home. Her mother had been driving her up the wall for the last few years-okay, all her life-but the last few years the most. Her mother kept complaining that she was irresponsible and not feminine at all.  
 _Well, excuse me if I like being a tomboy..._ she thought bitterly as she dropped her keys in a ceramic bowl on the kitchen breakfast bar and dropped her work bag on the couch. Then there was also her mother's complaint of not becoming a nurse like she wanted. But Katrina could not stand hospital rooms, she'd rather be among books, antiques and cook in a little shop that was both a café and a bookstore that liked to sell antiques as well. It was a nice little shop and comforting and she loved it, not to mention it actually paid fairly well despite what her mother believed.  
Katrina wandered into the kitchen to see the source of her mother's latest complaint to her over the phone.  
Demetrius Redoak. A twenty eight year old Greek-Scottish boy with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He was tall, taller than her five foot four build, lean but well muscled and a little tanner that she was. He had been an outcast in his family, unloved and unwanted, and terribly abused. So two years ago, he ran away. Katrina had originally found him in the rain, soaked to the bone and alone and had been the first to notice him. She's always was a person that looked after all the outcasts, misfits and 'freaks' that no one wanted anything to do with.  
She had smiled and offered to let him live with her. Her mother had protested and bitched greatly, saying a young woman shouldn't live with unknown man, especially a freak like him. The word freak had made Katrina snap and lash out at her mother. She had never done it before so there had been such a shocked silence afterwards that Katrina had simply finished packing her things and pulled Demetrius out of there before her mother could stop them. Demetrius was so greatful to Katrina that he became the older brother she never had as well as a protector.  
Katrina smiled and hugged her older brother, asking how his day went. As they talked, Demetrius finished cooking and plated the food before they say down to eat it.  
"Plan on going out tonight?" he asked after they had finished and he had started washing the dishes. They had a dishwasher, but he preferred to clean them himself; helped him think was his reasoning.  
Katrina couldn't resist a smirk. "You asking so you and Riley can get it on while I'm gone?" She laughed when he playfully hit her with a towel. "What, is was a serious question!"  
He rolled his eyes. "It might happen, but it wouldn't be a bad idea to get out there and have some fun."  
She sighed; she kind of put off going out for a night on her own. The last time she tried, she'd ended up in her room with her studio headphones on to block out the boys' noisy love making. She'd long since grilled the guy and laid it out that if he did anything to harm her brother, the Emergency Medics wouldn't be able to identify any part of him when she was done. But that aside, she thought about it. About being twenty-five now, still a virgin and hadn't spent a complete night out in the town by herself. She sighed once more.  
"Yeah, just let me change."  
So later that night, she was down at a bar wearing a black jacket with a hood that was white on the inside and zipped up the front, with yellow form-fitting jeans, black and white sneakers, and a dark green shirt. A short blue scarf was tied around her upper left leg, and around her neck was a black collar with a gold lightning bolt pendant on the front and a matching earring in her left ear. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair; a pixie bob haircut that exposed her neck where her skull connected to her spine and fell a little past the chin in the front, bangs that could hang down over eyes but as usual were brushed to the right side. She had also taken to dying blue and white stripes in her hair, which overall gave a bit of a punkish look to her.  
Which was helpful as she was only five-foot-four; as they say, never underestimate your opponent. She could handle herself if she really needed to, whether or not anyone who looked at her thought so.  
She took another swig of beer, lightly humming the song currently playing through the club, and when her drink was finished, went up to the bar to get something stronger. She rolled her eyes as some idiot tried to hit on her; she really hated dealing with idiots, especially drunk idiots. So when the man tried to lay a hand on her, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it till his arm was behind his back and he was wincing in pain.  
"I'm not in the fucking mood." was all she said before letting him go to cradle his wrist, picked up her drink the bartender put down for her, and headed back to her table.

Scara stepped into the living room of her new apartment, empty but for a couch, a coffee table, and a TV on the wall. She checked the bedroom, which held a queen bed and a dresser. The windows had heavy blackout curtains hanging on them, blocking out early-night moonlight.  
Acheron had told her to take the night off, since she'd just moved here, under painful circumstances, no less; her long time partner in Tallahassee had been killed by Daimons only three days ago. She and Tiffany had been close-as close as Dark-Hunters could get-and it stung to know her friend was a Shade now. Tiff had helped her deal with her sexuality for almost three hundred years, ever since they'd met. It had been Tiff that explained why Scara was so conflicted over her desire toward other women, and it was Tiff who spent years sending her lesbian lovers to get more comfortable with her choice. When others had jeered at her and mocked her sexuality, Tiff had been the one to comfort her, choosing to come over and spend the day watching movies with her, even though it drained their powers. And now Tiff was dead. Because of her.  
Four nights ago, Scara had stopped by a bar for a drink before heading back home from patrol, and one of the late-staying patrons had mocked her for flirting with the waitress. He'd insulted her womanhood, saying she never deserved to have children. The memory of Amenhapu stung her, and she'd left immediately, calling Tiff on her way home. The other Dark-Huntress had practically flown over to her place and spent the day cuddling with her and eating junk food. She'd left around two in the afternoon, with the help of her Squire, so that she could recover some of her powers before nightfall.  
She still ended up dead, because her powers had failed her when she needed them most.  
Now, Scara set her bag on the floor by the bed and doffed her black leather jacket before dropping to the floor by her bag and leaning against the bed. She hadn't been able to stay in Tallahassee, forced to face Tiff's memory every night, but now she almost regretted her cowardice; she missed the familiar walls of her home.  
It was still only ten at night when Scara finally got fed up with the confines of her apartment. She showered and picked out an outfit for a night on the town. Screw Acheron; if he wanted her to stay in, he'd have to tie her to the bed.  
Her long ebony hair, once cleaned and brushed, gleamed as it swung to her hips; she braided it quickly and pulled it over one shoulder so it wouldn't get in the way, leaving only some shorter, chin-length strands free in front to cover the large, puckered red scar over her right eye. Her eyes, in life, had been a ruddy brown that almost looked like dried blood. But in death, as a Dark-Huntress, her eyes were blacker than her hair. Blacker than her rocky heart.  
The outfit she'd chosen would have fit perfectly on a biker chick; the leather jacket she'd doffed earlier was fit to her, specially tailored and expensive, though her Dark-Hunter wages more than covered it, and it had numerous silver zippers that flashed in even the dimmest light and drew attention to her. A blood-red cut-off tank top offset the jacket, showing off her well-toned, well-tanned stomach, and her black leather pants hugged her curves to perfection. Red-accented black biker boots completed the outfit. Or so she thought until she glanced in the mirror.  
Something was missing...  
Biting her lip, she hesitated, but eventually decided to wear it: the necklace Tiff had given her for her last birthday. She'd never put any stock into the date of her birth, but Tiff had nagged her until she gave in and told the girl, who of course spent gross amounts of cash to treat her every year. The necklace, a long, thick silver chain and an Egyptian eye pendant made of sterling silver with white gold inlay and a ruby for the center, had been custom-made by an old friend of Tiff's, just for Scara. It was a 'third eye,' the symbol of Amun-Ra, after whom her son had been named. The necklace meant more to her now than anything ever had since Amenhapu's death. So she clipped it around her neck and headed for the nearest bar.

The moment Scara stepped past the bouncer into the bar, she skimmed the crowd. First for Daimons, then for women. Satisfied that there were none of the former, she focused on the latter, mentally doing a sort of checklist to see how each measured up to her preferences.  
The girl in a hot pink blouse with a patterned miniskirt was too preppy; she'd be straight for sure. That girl by the bar with her girlfriends might be bi; she had a low-cut shirt that she kept turned toward her friends and all her focus was on the blonde next to her. No, probably in a relationship.  
A girl with yellow jeans and a dark green shirt under a black jacket sat alone near the wall. She was cute, but maybe a little too punk; she was probably waiting for someone anyway.  
Scara kept looking around as she slowly made her way to the bar. Just as she did, one of the guys there muttered something to his companion and headed for the yellow-pants girl. Scara smirked; this would be interesting, especially if the leave-me-the-hell-alone aura the girl carried was accurate.  
When the man reached her table, the girl's face twisted in an annoyed, almost angry sneer. The traded a couple of words, and then the man reached for her arm. She yanked away and tensed as though to punch or slap him.  
The man pulled a knife. A casual observer wouldn't have noticed-he was obviously used to handling knives-but Scara had been paying attention the whole time, and it was her job to notice subtle things.  
Before she could even think, she was on her feet and across the room, her hand closing around the man's wrist. He didn't even get a chance to glance at her before she jerked his arm up behind him, wrenching the blade from his hand and pressing it to his throat. Stunned, he didn't fight back, and she put her lips by his ear so he'd hear her without her having to shout over the noise and risk someone else hearing.  
"Pulling a knife on a girl?" she growled, her slightly raspy voice sounding almost masculine with anger. "Didn't your momma teach you manners?" Now he tried to fight, to pull away, but a little pressure on the knife stopped that. "I've got a photographic memory, bastard, and if I ever see you assaulting a woman again, I'll turn you into one." In case her meaning wasn't clear enough, she moved the knife to his crotch.  
Katrina smirked at the look on the man's face, and when the dark woman pulled her blade away, she stood up from her seat.  
"And just for good measure..." The twenty-five year old sharply kicked him in the balls. The man gave a small cry in pain and clutched his crotch before limply moving away. His friend at the bar looked stunned, but was still cradling his hand after she nearly took it off. She smirked again; she had reinforced most of her shoes with steel soles to give her an edge in self defense. And it came in handy for these kinds of situations. Then she turned to the other woman, noting the black leather and red shirt, not a bad looking biker chick. She was bisexual and really didn't give a fuck.  
"I would say thank you, but I can take care of myself."  
Well, at least that was something Scara was used to; no matter where she went, or how bad the situation she saved them from, no one ever seemed to be grateful.  
With a passive scoff, she flipped the blade in her hand and set it on the table next to the girl. Then she returned wordlessly to the bar. The man and his friend both blanched at the sight of her heading toward them and they beat a hasty retreat.  
"Something strong," she told the bartender, and picked up her surveillance again. It would be so much easier for her if she used her power to see someone's true nature, but that felt like cheating, so she always turned it off when she went dyke-hunting. Besides, it made the game more fun to figure people out the normal way.  
Her cell phone buzzed and she sighed. Only three people had her number, and one of them was a Shade. One guess who would be calling her right now.  
"What do you want, Ash?" she asked in greeting.  
"Not Ash, but thanks for thinking so highly of me," a male voice laughed on the other end.  
"Who the hell are you and how'd you get my number?" she demanded, voice low with irritation.  
"Hey, calm down," he said. "I'm Taylor, your new Squire. I just got your address from Ash, but when I got here, the place was empty, so I was just trying to find out where you were."  
"I'm at a bar," she answered a sarcastic lilt in her voice. "Just go home, Taylor; I didn't need a Squire in Tallahassee, I don't need one here."  
"Well I'm sorry you feel that way," he said sincerely. "I was looking forward to working with you; word on the web is that you and Tiff were the best Dark-Huntresses..."  
"Don't say her name!" Scara snarled, only just remembering to keep her voice down. Then she sighed into the stunned silence. "...Two blocks down and three blocks over. I'm wearing black and red. And when you report to Ash, tell him he can kiss my ass." She hung up.  
Katrina let out a whistle as she came up to the bar next to her. "Boss being a pain in your ass?" Her set her glass back on the counter. "Another double." She told the bartender, who nodded and set about her order. She had only guessed it was the woman's boss; she wasn't sure how she did it, but she heard both sides of the phone conversation, something that only really happened if she was concentrating on hearing said conversation.  
Scara gave the girl a sharp look, hoping perhaps a brusque attitude would send her away.  
"Stick your nose in other people's business, you might lose your sniffer," she warned, nodding thanks to the bartender as he brought her a tall glass of clear-amber fluid. She took a sip to taste-test it, and decided the oaky flavor was good enough, so she downed the drink all at once and gestured for another.  
Katrina's blue eyes rolled heavenwards. "You don't have many friends, do you? Your people skills kind of suck." She took her own drink and shot it back, before setting the glass back down. She wasn't sure what it was about this woman, but she got the same feeling around her as she did when she first meet Demetrius or anyone else who was considered a troublemaker, misfit, delinquent, hooligan, etc. by society. She couldn't explain it, but it was an air of protectiveness that over came her every time she ran across one. But this woman especially made that feeling come towards the surface, she also seemed to... She guessed, _sense_ about her that there was a dark and scarred past beneath that cocoa-colored skin.  
Then again, if she thought about it, she wasn't exactly a bad looking woman either.  
"My 'people skills' include insults and abrasions," Scara replied scathingly. "Unless you like being stung and burned, I suggest you leave me be." With timing so perfect it could have been choreographed, a tall, cute brunette young man with bright gray-green eyes slipped through the crowd and sat next to her. He wore a light gray t-shirt with words on it, under a dark-gray, almost black, military-style jacket that went well with the combat boots on his feet and dark green camo cargo pants, but his ears were pierced, two on each side and a cartilage in one.  
Assuming this was her new Squire, she scowled at him.  
"You're late," she rumbled. He grinned.  
"Sorry, sweetheart," he said with a totally gay tilt of the head. "Almost couldn't get in the door." He glanced past her to the yellow-pants girl and his grin turned to a teasing smirk. "Who's your girlfriend?" A tic of anger twitched in Scara's jaw and without seeming to move, she kicked his chair out from under him.  
Katrina raised a brow to them, but shook it off before receiving another drink from the bartender. "Ain't information you need to know." She turned and walked back to her table. She would respect their privacy.  
"Ow..." Taylor rubbed the side of his head were it had connected with the bar.  
"Yeah, well, next time don't spout my preference in front of strangers," Scara growled, downing her second glass and gesturing for a third.  
"How many is that?" Taylor asked, raising an eyebrow as he cautiously took his seat.  
"Two, going on twenty," Scara said blandly. "Are you my guardian or my Squire? I don't need someone riding herd on me for my drinking habits."  
"Then go talk to that cute little lady," he said, nodding toward yellow-pants girl. "Don't tell me you missed the fact that she was checking you out."  
"Another word and the doctors will have a hard time digging my boot out of your ass," she warned, glaring at him.  
"Ok, I'm not trying to be a replacement for Tiff or anything, but you seriously need to buck up and start having fun again," he said, a feminine lilt in his voice that confirmed her theory; he was gay. To the extreme.  
And with his happy-go-lucky character, she might finally have met her match in Squires.  
"Look, Taylor, I'm really, really not in the mood..." Scara cut off as her Dark-Hunter senses spiked. "Damn it..." She glanced at the door just as a pair of Daimons walked in, one male and one female. Each had an Apollite on their arm and Scara scowled at the sight. Walking timebombs; that's how she saw Apollites. She'd love to gut all four of them, but she'd sworn an oath not to kill anyone but Daimons and other scum that fed on humans. Besides that, she'd left most of her weapons at the apartment and couldn't risk letting one of the Daimons run.  
"Taylor, you didn't happen to bring anything for me, did you?" she asked, watching the Daimons closely.  
"Actually, I did, but it's not much," he answered, following her gaze. "I commissioned a butterfly knife for you; a welcoming gift."  
"Is it here?" she asked, casually reaching down and scratching her calf, slipping a switchblade from her boot as she did.  
"Yeah, my pocket." She stood and he slid the butterfly knife into her hand with a smooth gesture that would make any thief proud. Than she moved toward the Daimons, almost groaning when she saw they'd cross paths right next to the table where Yellow-Pants sat.  
A foul scent drifted passed Katrina's nose and brought her attention back to the present. Cheap perfume. Disgusting. She looked up in annoyance to see four model worthy blondes, and they all had seemed to staring at her for some odd reason.  
"What?" She snapped. "Never seen a girl sit by herself before?"  
One of the females whispered to the male next to her, Katrina swore her ears were playing tricks on her cause there's no way she could of heard this: "This one has a strong soul, worth a small meal between all four of us; it's getting time for you to turn anyway."  
A nice red flag was definitely waving high and fast in her brain along with an inner alarm screaming **DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!**  
One of the blonde girls stepped toward her, a fake smile plastered on her lips.  
"Hey, sweetie, could you help us out?" she asked. "We're kinda new to town..."  
"Hey, Goldilocks," Scara cut in, drawing all four's attention to her. She smiled for the benefit of onlookers. Damn the Daimons for choosing such a packed bar.  
All four blanched slightly.  
"Dark-Huntress," one whispered to another. She only heard because of her super-senses, but the looks on their faces was enough anyway.  
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," she said. "You leave the girl alone and come with me; we'll settle this outside. Or, you can try and run. Personally, I'd rather you run; it'll make my night a whole lot more interesting."  
Katrina raised a brow. What the fuck was this about? Then she noticed a small gleam in her hand. A knife? What was this a gang fight over territory or something?  
The Daimons and Apollites exchanged anxious glances, and then darted away, splitting up and going four different directions. Cursing, Scara followed the fastest; she'd have to pick them off one by one...  
She almost lost the last one when he ducked into a restaurant. The two Daimons had been harder to find, but she'd killed them quickly; the Apollite girl had attacked her, so it was an easy case of self-defense, but the male had taken one look at her and run. She knew he'd go warn the Daimon community here that she'd arrived, and that would take away her advantage tomorrow night, so she followed.  
Thankfully, annoyed patrons and angry cooks left a pretty clear trail, and she caught up with him in the alley behind the restaurant.  
"Fricking bastard," she snarled, whirling him around and slamming him into the wall. "You've got a death wish or something, making me run like that..."  
"Bitch! Let me go!" he snapped, wrenching at her wrists. If she were human, he'd have broken them, but she was more than human, so she didn't even budge.  
"Not a chance," she sneered. "What are you, twenty-six? You'll turn Daimon soon anyway; I should kill you now." He spat at her, saliva landing squarely in her scarred eye. She flinched automatically, and then pinned him with fierce glare that had made warriors tremble throughout the centuries. He swallowed hard, but to his credit, he returned the glare evenly. "Big mistake, Apollite... There are no witnesses here, _aya_."  
Releasing one hand, she pressed the trigger of the thin blade strapped to the inside of her wrist, the second of the only three weapons she'd brought from the apartment. The blade shot out with a soft singing note and the Apollite's eyes widened an instant before she rammed it through his left one and into his brain.  
How unfortunate that Apollites didn't explode into dust the way their older counterparts did.


	3. Chapter 2

Back at the bar, Katrina paid for her bill then left. No use staying in a bar all night. The night air was a little chilled, enough for her to see her breath. She took a breath and let it out through her nose, there was a light scent of moist in the air, she took it as a sign that it was going to rain soon. She pulled up her hood and zipped up the jacket before stuffing her hands in her pockets and starting the trek home.  
Indeed, a light drizzle began as Scara dumped the body behind a dumpster and pulled her phone out. Taylor answered on the first ring.  
"Are you ok?" he asked anxiously. "Did you get hurt? Do you need me to come pick you up?"  
"I'm fine," she cut in. "Does the girl suspect anything?"  
"I don't think so," Taylor answered, relief in his voice. "She just paid her bill and left. Speaking of which, the bartender looks annoyed because you left so suddenly; need me to start a tab for you?"  
"Yeah, why not?" Scara sighed. "I'm heading home. Taylor?"  
"Yeah?"  
"If Ash hears that I was out working when he told me to stay in," she threatened, "I'll be needing a new Squire real soon."  
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied. "See ya." She hung up and wiped a drop of blood from her cheek as she left the alley, almost running into a bypasser.  
"Watch it," she growled, and then cursed as she registered the yellow pants. "Not you... What are you, stalking me or something?"  
"I could ask you the same thing," Katrina said in a bored tone, rolling her eyes. "And I'm pretty sure I'm fucking human and heading home."  
That set Scara back. Most humans had no idea what was going on in the shadows, the war raging on between Dark-Hunters and Daimons in order to protect humanity. In fact, in all two thousand-plus years that she'd been a Dark-Hunter, Scara had never met anyone who was completely human and knew about the conflict, that hadn't been a part of it at one time or another, as a former Dark-Hunter, or as the spouse of one. Perhaps Yellow-Pants had been mistakenly involved in a fight with Daimons? Or, she shuddered to think, the girl had been supposedly in love with a Dark-Hunter and let them die. There were so many possible deaths for Scara's kind at the hands of supposed loved ones; it sickened her how cruel normal humans could be.  
"...What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she growled, opting for the safe route. If Yellow-Pants didn't know the truth, there was no point in exposing herself unnecessarily.  
Katrina's right brow twitched in annoyance. "Means I'm going back to the place where I stay to sleep. Fucking deaf or something?" She stepped around the woman to start again on her journey back to her house.  
"Bitch..." Scara scowled after the woman, her jet gaze fixed on the yellow-cupped ass long after most people would have lost sight in the darkness, even with the streetlights. Then she turned and headed for her own home, in the opposite direction.  
Taylor met her there, lounging on the porch of her part of the tri-plex building. A dark gray Mustang sat on the curb, neon-green decals calling attention to its existence.  
"Where's my car?" she asked without preamble, casting a significant glance at the Ford that was obviously her Squire's.  
"En route," Taylor promised, moving his legs out of her way. Good thing; she would have stepped on them remorselessly. "Should be here in the next couple of hours; mind if I come in to wait? I'm Jenny's ride."  
"Whatever," Scara huffed, opening the door for him. He promptly made himself at home on her couch and she ignored him to do into her room.  
"From now on, my room is completely off limits," she called back as she began stripping to take a shower. "I don't care how gay you are; no one is allowed in here unless I personally bring them in. Got it?"  
"Yes, ma'am," Taylor replied promptly. Well, at least he had manners; it shouldn't be too hard to train him to her liking, especially if he really was gay, which, she noticed, he didn't argue.

Katrina made it home and shut the door behind her, locking it. Since the house was dark, she assumed Demetrius had gone to bed. She felt along the breakfast bar as she went past the kitchen, then her eyes adjusted enough for her to make it to the stairs and upstairs to her bedroom. She shut the door and stripped all except her sports bra and underwear. Then threw on a long black shirt and crawled into bed. Curling up in her thick comforter, she snuggled into her pillows and closed her eyes. She fell into a light sleep a few minutes later.

After a nice hot shower to clean the sweat and blood off, Scara donned a robe and went out to keep Taylor company while he waited for Jenny, who, she discovered, was actually his little sister. His only sister, no less, and a Squire in training; she was his back-up, and did anything he couldn't do to help his Dark-Hunter. For all intents and purposes, Scara was one of the lucky few who had two Squires. Given her orientation, Jenny wouldn't be allowed to be alone with her, but that was fine; Scara didn't like teenagers anyway.  
By morning, she'd learned that Taylor and Jennifer Trujillo had lived in New Orleans all their lives and had barely traveled out of the city, much less the state. Their parents had both been Squires before them, father Antonio Trujillo in Texas and mother Elizabeth Sanchez in Mexico. They'd met in New Orleans during a Squire meeting of some kind, and with both being quite attractive, Elizabeth had ended up pregnant.  
Scara was surprised to hear that not only had Antonio had done right by her and married her the instant he found out, their marriage was a happy one, the family members close and loving.  
What she wouldn't give to still have that...  
When Jenny finally arrived, just before sunrise, Taylor introduced them and Scara thanked the younger girl for bringing her Hyundai Genesis X-a concept car she'd had custom-built two years ago-all the way from Tallahassee. Jenny of course replied that it was nothing and she was happy to help, that if Scara needed anything, she could call, which prompted her to give Scara her phone number.  
After the siblings left, Scara saved the numbers as contacts and spent a good half an hour sitting in the dark on her bed, trying to gather the courage to delete Tiff's number.  
In the end, she locked the phone without deleting it and went to sleep, slipping immediately into the nightmares that had haunted her every day without fail since the moment she'd sold her soul to Artemis.

Katrina woke and sat up in bed to a stormy day. Rain was pouring by the buckets and there was faint thunder and lightning booming in the distance. She smiled. For some reason she couldn't explain, she loved storms. Thunderstorms and hurricanes the most. She supposed it had to do with being both born and named after the storm that nearly wiped out New Orleans twenty-five years ago.  
She shrugged and got out of bed, glancing at her clock as she set about getting ready to shower. It was, surprisingly, 4:30 in the afternoon. Then again, she had gotten home about 2:00 in the morning. She shrugged and took a hot shower. Afterwards she dressed in a red tunic-like short dress with black leggings and black heeled boots. She fished out her lightning-bolt collar and matching earring from last night. She looked at herself in the mirror as she brushed her hair to get out the knots and tangles. Fairly glad of her appearance, she left to go down and grab something to eat.  
About an hour later, she was outside with an umbrella open above her head as she walked down the street. She always loved to walk out in the storms, she guessed it was a weird fetish of hers. But nonetheless, she enjoyed the look, feel and even the smell of rain falling. She smiled and continued on her route to who knows where.

Blood painted her dreams. Screams shook her, cries of pain and desperation, begging and pleading for mercy and help. Dead eyes accused her, chasing her endlessly as she fought through the suffocating darkness.  
"Amenhapu!" Jolting upright, Scara panted, shaking head to toe in a cold sweat, wide black eyes fixed on the blank wall in front of her as images continued to flash across her vision, unhindered by her wakeful state. They died away slowly as her heart's pounding lessened. Still, agony tore at her with the memory of her long dead child, and she placed a trembling hand over her scar, the disfigurement for which she'd chosen her new name, so as never to forget the reason for her eternal battle.  
But she'd forgotten.  
In her contentment with Tiff, she'd lost sight of what she was fighting for, the memory of her son, her sun.  
For a few moments, she allowed herself to cry, sobs wracking her body. Then she wiped her face clean and got up. A cautious peek outside revealed darkness, despite the time of day; sunset was still an hour or so off, but the storm had blocked out the sky, making it relatively safe for Dark-Hunters.  
And Daimons.  
This would be the best time to hunt, when all the humans were crowded together, tired and focused on getting home. No one would notice if someone were pulled into an alley, and they wouldn't be reported missing until much, much later tonight, or even in the morning.  
Scara wiggled her way into tight black leather pants, donned stiletto heels with real stilettos in the thin columns supporting her weight, tugged on a snug black cami with red bullet-hole designs, and grabbed her favourite red-trimmed black trench coat, which had more weapons concealed in it than the entire US armory.  
Ok, that was exaggerating. But not by much; the concealed weapons added at least fifty pounds to an already heavy coat.  
On top of that, she slid two needle-thin steel daggers into her braid, hiding them in the twists at her neck. Then she checked the poison-coated needle in her signet ring. It had belonged to her husband, and had never yet been used; she swore it would be the last weapon she wielded, and only if she were struggling with death.  
Satisfied, she texted Taylor to let him know she was headed out early tonight, then silenced her phone and slipped it into her pocket as she locked the door behind her.

Katrina hummed a song to herself quietly as she continued her random wandering in the rain, her eyes unfocused on anything specific around her as she continued to put one foot in front of the other. She rolled her eyes at a group of folks who went all the way into the street, risking getting hit by a car, just because they didn't want to walk through a shallow puddle.  
She defiantly walked straight through it, not caring if little droplets splashed up onto her leggings or inside her boots.  
The blue-eyed girl wasn't paying any mind to the sets of eyes that followed her form down the street. The beings watching her feeling the ripples of energy coming off her soul. Strong, vibrant and most importantly... would last four daimons for a nice long time.  
The group set out to follow after her just as she turned a corner, casually twisting the handle of the umbrella between her fingers. Katrina was completely unaware she was being stalked, she held a hand outside the rim of the umbrella and let the rain pour into her skin.

Scara dispatched a female Daimon who'd been just about to suck dry a handsome young man. It was a simple task for once, but earned her an incredulous glare and threats to call the police, which he promptly did, telling them a deranged woman was trying to murder him. Scara scoffed at that and slipped away while he tried to figure out where he was to tell the 911 operator.  
The rain thoroughly soaked her from top to bottom, but she didn't mind. In fact, she rather enjoyed it; the cool liquid cascading through her hair and clothes soothed her, washing away the nightmare as easily as if she'd just fallen in a puddle of mud.  
Not watching where she was going, she missed the curb and splashed into a deep puddle of dirty water that soaked into her stilettos, weighing them down. Speaking of 'puddle of mud'...  
Grumbling about ruining a good pair of shoes, she started to take them off to dump out the excess water, but at that moment spotted a group of at least five Daimons closing in on a single woman. She was probably pregnant; mothers-to-be always had stronger souls and could often sate more than one Daimon, not to mention the two-for-one deal of a fresh child's soul. Scowling, Scara pulled out a couple of tri-point throwing stars and followed, moving silently in hopes of taking out a couple before the others noticed.  
The young woman ran her wet hand through her hair, using the cool liquid to pull the few strands that hung in front of her face out of the way. She heard footsteps behind her and glanced back; shrugged, thinking they were heading the same general direction and turned back around.  
Three males and two women altogether. One of the males was ahead of the group and reached up, grabbing Katrina by the back of her collar and jerking her into the alley. She let out a growl of protest, but the daimon slapped his hand over her mouth just when the other four turned to the Dark-Huntress behind them.  
They all attacked her at once just as the fifth yanked Katrina's head to the side and bite deeply into her neck. She froze at the bite, confusion and fear pumping through her veins like adrenaline. She pushed her hands against his shoulders to try to force him away, but he was much too strong to even notice.  
To her credit, the woman didn't scream as most people did when Daimons attacked them. Scara admired that. Moving silent as a ghost, she flicked her wrist, sending two stars into the chests of a male and a female. The latter died with a cry of shock, but the former most have dodged just enough at the last moment, because he just grunted and yanked it from his body to fling it back as she dodged a punch from the other male. Grinning ruthlessly, she snatched it out of the air and plunged it into the other female as she tried to tackle Scara. The female burst into gold dust without a sound, the star clinking to the cement as Scara spun, tapping the toe of her shoe against the ground to engage the stiletto blade in the heel, and then kicking at one of the males' neck. He jerked back, but not fast enough, the blade slicing through his throat. She snatched Taylor's butterfly knife out of her coat and flicked it open, stabbing at the other male while the first tried desperately to staunch the blood. He caught her wrist, and by the look on his face, it was a lucky catch. She headbutted him, making him cry out in pain. That and the gurgling of the other male were the only sounds to be heard over the rain, and Scara whirled, afraid the woman was dead.  
While her back was turned, the male she'd just headbutted slammed into her back, almost throwing her to the ground. She turned it into a front roll, knocking his head against the concrete and stunning him. He was dead before he could recover. Flicking open a switchblade, she flung it at the other male, her aim perfect.  
The final Daimon, pausing his meal, swallowed hard in fear as Scara slowly rose to her feet, her towering 6-foot-3 plus heels form looming like a grim reaper in the storm.  
"Let." Her voice growled almost masculine with anger. "Her." She only just remembered to keep her fangs hidden, but that didn't detracted from the feral air around her. "GO."  
Katrina could feel her world slipping into black nothingness, but the physical pain lessened when the man pulled away from her neck. She could feel the rain soaking her clothes and skin, a feeling she normally loved, but the fact that it was washing away much needed blood didn't help much.  
The Daimon could tell the woman he claimed as a meal wasn't going to live much longer and smirked coldly at the Dark Huntress. "You're too late to save her, Dark Hunter."  
It was true, Katrina's blue eyes were drifting closed, her life slipping from her fingers and her skin became prickled with cold.  
He never saw Scara move.  
One moment, she was looming, threatening. The next, her butterfly blade slammed into his chest, sliding hilt deep into the dark spot where souls collected. He never even got to make a sound.  
No longer supported, the woman began to fall, and Scara caught her easily, Dark-Hunter strength making her seem as light as a pillow. Only then, as she cradled the tiny beauty, did she realize who it was: Yellow-Pants, from the night before.  
"The gods hate me..." she growled, glaring at the rain clouds. "You couldn't have nudged her toward another Dark-Hunter's zone? Or sent me to a different section of the city? No, you had to throw us together again." Still grumbling, she carefully supported the girl in one arm as she gathered her weapons and Yellow-Pants' umbrella with the other. Then she headed for her apartment, which was thankfully not too far off.  
The moment she arrived, she called Taylor and almost snapped when she got his voicemail.  
"Hey sweetie, you've reached Taylor's cell; if you're hot and gay, leave your number. If not, I probably won't call you back unless it's work-related. Thanks!"  
"Damn you, Taylor, I'm going to fucking kill you!" she snarled, tossing her phone across the room. Closing the door, she carried the girl into the living room and laid her on the couch. Just as she did, her phone buzzed.  
"I am so sorry," Taylor said the moment she answered, sounding mortified. "My phone fell under the bed and I couldn't get to it in time!"  
"Just shut the hell up and bring some of Jenny's clothes over," she growled. "My stuff sure as hell ain't gonna fit this girl. And bring a doctor or somebody; damn Daimon almost drunk her dry." Without waiting for a reply, she ended the call and set her phone aside so she could get Yellow-Pants out of her cold wet clothes and into a warm dry robe. Then she took a towel and dried the girl's hair while she waited for Taylor and the doctor.  
The door bell rang a little while later, by then the smaller girl's skin was fairly cold and liquid-paper white.  
Scara refused to leave the room while the doctor checked the girl, but Taylor managed to coax her into the kitchen, where she was out of the way but could still see. He'd also brought groceries, and he promptly began fixing food for her. She was surprised to see he knew her tastes; there was a bottle of old merlot wine amongst bottles of various Jack Daniels, several different types of meats, and only green vegetables. She despised carrots, beets, or other coloured veggies.  
Within minutes, Taylor had prepared her a thick beef sandwich with celery sticks on the side, and poured her a mixed drink that she couldn't identify even having seen him make it; he'd make a fortune as a bartender. But as much as she hated herself for it, she couldn't eat; her thoughts kept going back to the girl, and she worried that she really had been too late.  
After a while of watching her stare into the distance, Taylor reached over and took her hand.  
"Don't worry, darling," he tsked. "Jason's one of the best doctor's I know; if I didn't know any better, I'd say he was a demigod son of Asclepius."  
"I'd feel better if he was," Scara muttered. "...What if I was too late? What if she died because I was too slow?" All at once, her old fear gripped her, tearing into her already damaged soul. Or at least, her consciousness; Artemis sort of had her soul at the moment.  
She could see Amenhapu again, lying in a pool of his own blood, already dead as that man, that horrible man violated him.  
Taylor hissed, bringing her back to the present, and she realized she had dug her nails into his hand.  
"Sorry," she mumbled, drawing away. He quickly grabbed her hand again, in both of his.  
"Don't be," he assured. "You're worried; I understand."  
Liar. He'd never really understand.  
Jason came over to the kitchen with a grim look on his face. "I'm sorry. But she was dead when we came."

Inside Katrina's body, something long hidden and buried in her blood began to stir. Her blood stream turned dark, black in color, but her heart beat slowly began to start up again.  
In Katoteros, a dark-haired goth man's head suddenly jerked up as he sensed something. A shift in the universe. This had happened when a certain Dark-Hunter had come into his Malachai powers. This wasn't good...  
Something was awakening. And he could only pray it wasn't the bringer of the real doomsday.


	4. Chapter 3

Scara paled.  
"I tried," Jason said. "I really did; she held on for a long time, but..." He shook his head. "I didn't get here soon enough. I'm sorry."  
" _Sorry?_ " Scara snarled, stomping to her feet. Past and present mixed in a horrendous blend and she shoved him back. "She's NOT dead! She can't be!"  
"She IS," Jason said sharply, glaring back. "I did everything I could to stop it, but she lost too much blood; her system was already shutting down before I even touched her!"  
"Uh, guys?"  
"She was alive when I brought her back!" Scara snapped, ignoring her Squire.  
"'Was,' key word," Jason returned. " _Was_ alive. She's not anymore!"  
"Guys?"  
"So what took you so long, bastard?" Scara growled. "You should have gotten here sooner!"  
"I got here as fast as Taylor could get me here!" Jason answered. "Some things just can't be stopped!"  
"GUYS!"  
"WHAT?" Both of them pinned Taylor with a fierce glare, but he wasn't even looking at them. He pointed.  
There on the edge of the couch was the girl Scara had brought in, only she was sitting up and silently staring at them. And instead of her short hair and electric blue eyes, her dark hair now hit her mid back and the irises that stared at them almost in boredom were molten gold.  
It was Jason's turn to pale.  
"S-she... I-I-I swear, she was... dead..."  
Scara, on the other hand, was relieved.  
"Should've listened to me, bitch," she scoffed at him. "I told you she wasn't dead."  
"...I think I'm siding with Jason on this one," Taylor said slowly, still staring at the girl. "That is _not_ the same girl you brought in... I've been around a lot of crazy-powerful creatures, but this one? This one trumps them all."  
A smirk worked across the young woman's face, a deep chuckle working up her throat; when she opened her mouth, it wasn't her own voice speaking, it was a deep, masculine one that made of think of thunder in the distance, quiet yet booming.  
"The mortal medic is right. This body was dead. But I've brought it back, with this vessel's mind safely recovering in her subconscious."  
Scara's relief melted into a passive expression, making it impossible to read her thoughts. Along with her ability to read a person's true intent, which was shattered by whatever this creature was, she could completely close herself off from everyone but a select few, among whom was Acheron. She'd always known Acheron was more than what he said, and her ability was proof, but she never said anything, knowing better than most that it wasn't a good idea to dig into any Dark-Hunter's past.  
If this creature showed any sign that it knew what she was thinking, feeling, then she knew it was more powerful than Acheron, and to be honest, that scared her.  
"I don't suppose you're just going to leave now, are you?" she asked blandly. "And trying to kill you would kill her too?"  
The golden-eyed being rolled his eyes as he sat back on the couch. "Considering my presence in this body is what is keeping her alive, I do not think it'd be a wise idea to try to kill me. Regardless, you wouldn't be able to anyway." The masculine voice shrugged then. "And while I have the ability to give Acheron a good run for his money, you really have no need to fear me. I'm not here to kill anyone." Just as she had thought, he could tell what she was both thinking and feeling. In fact, it was almost child's play for him.  
A momentary tic of her jaw was the only outward sign of her annoyance and agitation, and inwardly, she kept a careful reign on her thoughts and emotions. Whoever it was, she refused to show fear.  
"Then what are you here for?" Taylor asked, sounding surprisingly calm. Jason, on the other hand, was practically shaking out of his boots. Scara had to give her Squire credit; though he was spooked and ready to bolt at the first sign of a fight, he maintained his composure and made himself to stay in place. If this didn't end in his death, she wouldn't be complaining about being forced to have a Squire anymore, that was for sure.  
"Simple really. Helping keep my vessel alive until the other half of her blood awakens." Then the being gestured to the body he currently occupied. "But I'll only really surface and take control when I need to step in. Katrina will be in control of her own body most of the time from here on out."  
So that was Yellow-Pants' real name. How ironic, that she would be host to a potentially god-like being that could destroy who-knew-what when 25 years ago New Orleans had nearly been completely destroyed by a hurricane given that name. Twenty-five years exactly in only a few days, no less.  
"...What are you?" Scara asked, curiosity overwhelming caution. If the creature wasn't hostile, what was he?  
The being chuckled. "'Who?' Is more the question you should really ask. But that will have to be revealed later; her conscience is waking up." Then he gave her a serious look, as if the silent threat of blasting her with a god bolt was spoken aloud. "I would advise getting your boss to explain about the Daimons and such, she's stubborn enough to demand to talk to only him about it anyway." With that warning said, the molten gold faded from the irises, leaving behind confused electric blue. Katrina gave a soft groan as she rubbed her temples, as if she had a headache.  
"What the fuck...?" She muttered under her breath, trying to remember the last thing that happened.  
She had been pulled into an alley by some college kid with second rate vampire teeth. Bitten and then... Now she was here. She wasn't to sure where here even was. As if to answer her question, the information suddenly came to her mind, at which she seemed pretty quick to accept.  
"...I wanna kill it," Scara said.  
"Scara!" Taylor scolded.  
"What?" she asked innocently. "It's a creature of unknown origin, and we have no proof that it's not actually harming a human." With an extremely effeminate groan, Taylor dropped his head into his hands.  
"I swear, if you die on me..." he grumbled.  
"No promises," Scara scoffed. "Get Shaggy here home before he starts running in circles screaming his head off. I'll take care of Katrina." Taylor gave her an odd look at her obvious Scooby-Doo reference, but said nothing, nodding and guiding Jason toward the front door as he began stammering incoherently.  
The moment they were gone, Scara breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the counter with her arms crossed.  
"Alright, hit me," she said, though she really didn't want to say anything at all to the girl on her couch. "I know you've got questions, so spit 'em out."  
Katrina rubbed her temples. "...did you actually kill those things? Whatever they were?"  
"Yes." Duh. That was sort of a given, seeing as she was still alive. "Next?"  
"I meant on a daily basis," the girl said blandly. She brushed her now long hair back out of her face to look up at her. "Name?"  
"Scara," she answered, flicking her own hair out of the way. "For obvious reasons. And you're Katrina?"  
The blue eyed girl gave her a _how the fuck did you know?_ look. "Yeah... Katrina Susano-o Tachibana."  
"Japanese," Scara noted, eying her. "Let me guess; father recently moved to the States?" The subtle twitch of surprise goaded her on, not that her ego needed stroking; she continued, using the tiniest visual clues that most people would miss. "Mother's been here a while; I'd say German or English, but that doesn't quite fit, not with black hair, even with Japanese blood. Isreali? Arabian? Mm, no... European, definitely. Not Italian, or Spanish or French; further north. English still isn't an option. Irish? No..." A small smirk curled at the corner of her mouth. "Scottish."  
Katrina rolled her eyes then out of curiosity she wondered that if this woman could guess her ancestry, maybe she could guess hers. Like before, the information was given immediately. She gave a small smile. "My turn. Egyptian? Not like how most are now, you have more of the... 'older generation' type of look, so... been around for quite a long time in spite of your young look."  
A thin furrow appeared in Scara's brow, smirk vanishing completely. No one ever knew what she was. The closest anyone had ever guessed was Arabian. She certainly had the look; dark hair, tanned skin, black eyes... Even her features had that 'desert nomad' look that caused many people to think her Israeli. No one had ever guessed Egyptian, and certainly no one had ever guessed she was old.  
"...Who told you?" she asked, an icy tone in her voice as she stared narrowly at her guest. "To know something like that, someone told you."  
Katrina faked a thoughtful look as she glanced around her, as if looking for someone. Then she looked back to Scara and raised a brow defiantly as if to actually say: _there's no one here to tell me._  
Scara's annoyance turned to interest. The girl obviously didn't know about whatever creature inhabited her body.  
Well, she wasn't going to be the one to tell her. Pushing off the counter, she picked up the bag of Jenny's clothes Taylor had brought and tossed them at Katrina.  
"Change," she said. "Bathroom's through there if you want to take a shower. Don't touch anything; I'll be back by dawn." She flicked the collar of her coat up and headed for the door. Maybe she could get another couple of hours in before the sun forced her and the Daimons inside. And first thing in the morning, she'd call Acheron about the creature in Katrina; hopefully he'd have an answer.  
Katrina sighed after she left and stood with the bag in her arms before making for the bathroom. She glanced into the mirror and groaned when she saw the long hair that now hung down her back. Okay, so she's either been out for three years or this _somehow_ happened instantaneously. She groaned and looked around the apartment, then got an idea when she spotted a pair of scissors and some rubber bands.

The night passed quickly, with only one more Daimon attack that she stopped almost before it began. When her alarm went off twenty minutes before dawn, she was glad to rush home and disappear into her bedroom, where the blackout shades would protect her from the sun. But the minute she stepped through the front door, she remembered Katrina, and groaned inwardly. She definitely needed sleep before she dealt with that...  
First, she needed to tell Acheron. So she pulled out her phone and dialed his number.  
It was answered on the first ring as Scara walked through her living room, where she spotted Katrina laying down. The clothes fit her almost perfectly. A light blue sun dress that had thin straps and came down to her knees, a thin white belt around her waist, and a pair of white-and-blue strap sandals on her feet. Next to it was a plastic grocery bag that held her old clothes and... Scara had to step closer to make sure, but what looked like four ponytails of hair. She understood when she looked back to Katrina's now mid-neck length hair. She was almost pixie-like with short hair.  
"What do you need, Sebak?" Acheron's deep voice answered. For a moment, Scara forgot her own last name, her black gaze fixed on the tiny, beautiful young woman lying on her floor like it was the most comfortable place in the world. "Scara?"  
"Ah... Sorry; distracted..."  
"So I gathered," her boss scoffed. "What do you need? Did Taylor find you yet? If you're avoiding him like you did Patrick..."  
"What? No," she cut in, shaking her head and going into her room, forcing herself to ignore the shapely form on her living room floor. "I'm alright with Taylor; he's a good kid. I'm calling about something else."  
"What is it?" By the tone of his voice, she knew he already had an idea of why she was calling.  
"A creature, a being," she explained. "Something incredibly powerful and able to inhabit human bodies. It's inside a woman I saved from Daimons last night."  
"...What time?"  
Ooh... She didn't like that tone; it worried her.  
"...About sundown?" she offered slowly. "I was out early because of the storm." An unintelligible muttering came from Acheron's end. "Ash? What the hell is it?"  
"Nothing you need to worry about right now," he said evasively. "Keep her there today; I'll see if I can't get over there tonight."  
"Wait, Ash...!" Too late; the line clicked. "Damn it, Ash!" She threw her phone against the wall, the screen shattering and the phone itself breaking into a couple of different pieces that dropped silently to the carpet as she growled curses in old Egyptian. Then she jerked off her coat with a sigh and sat heavily on the edge of the bed, not caring that she was dripping water everywhere.

Katrina's dream was interesting to say the least. She was on a reclined chair on a very large balcony. The scene around her was nothing like she'd ever seen; many different mansions decorated the side of a large hill, all decorated differently and made from a variety of materials. Needless to say, it was a gorgeous sight to behold.  
Her attention snapped to her right to another chair that sat beside her when she heard a deep, masculine chuckle. The man who sat beside her was tall and lean with a generous amount of muscle; blue robes and bits of armor covered his form but it still showed off his gorgeous body. His black boots and gloves appeared to be made of some kind of leather. His skin was a little more tan than hers and long black hair was pulled up in a high ponytail that fell to his lower back, thick bangs covering his right eye but she could still see the small smirk of his face. His visible eye was a liquid gold, slightly haunting and a little unnerving yet holding a bare hint of amusement.  
Katrina swallowed nervously at the powerful, slightly chaotic aura around the man. "Who are you?"  
The man chuckled. "I'm sure you can already guess, you were named after me." Her eyes widened in shock after she thought about it for a moment. "And before you ask, you are here so that I might explain a few things. Now I need you to pay close attention, because someone like me will be questioning you later."  
Katrina nodded and put her hands in her lap, knowing better than to make this man angry.

Once her anger had dimmed to a simmer, Scara stood and undressed, leaving a trail of clothes all the way to the shower, where she turned on the hot tap without the cold and stepped in, reveling in the scalding feel that reminded her of Ra's light beating down on her in Egypt. She longed for the days of her youth, when she was content to live as her life had been planned. She'd never really wanted that life, but it had been her duty, so she accepted it. But if this was the only alternative, she would gladly take back those days of ignorance and boredom.  
When she finished showering, she dried off and pulled on a robe. She would've gone naked, but there was a stranger in her apartment, so that was out. While she toweled off her hair, she went into the living room to check on Katrina. The girl was sleeping soundly; Scara would be surprised if anything could wake her right now. She carefully scooped up the girl and carried her into the bedroom, laying her gently on the side of the bed that wasn't still damp from when she'd dripped rainwater all over it. Slipping off the girl's belt and shoes, she began automatically tucking her in, and then stopped as a pang of agony speared her at the memory of her long dead son; over two thousand years and she still had that maternal instinct.  
She doffed the robe and pulled on a thin nightgown instead, crawling into the other side of the bed, determined to keep her distance. No good could come of getting involved with Katrina, regardless of whether the girl accepted one-night stands or not; whatever that creature was, Scara had a feeling it would be an important part of her life for the next few days at the very least, if not weeks or months. Better to avoid emotional involvement until the end, if at all. She kept her back to the girl as she drifted off.  
Katrina didn't stir the whole night. Her mind, on the other hand, was still talking to the man about how she had come back to life and how he was able to be inside her and 'occasionally taking the reins' as he had put it.  
It was still a little strange for her to have such a powerful being inside her mind, but at least she was able to understand the concept of how he was able to fully possess her body under special circumstances. When she woke up late the next day, in the early evening, she let out a sigh before rubbing her temple with one hand. Her life was never going to be normal ever again. She chuckled quietly, _then again, I've always had a slight obsession for the supernatural._  
It took her a moment to realize she was in a bed, and snuggled up to someone. The moment she shifted to see who it was, the woman jerked upright, snatched a knife from under her pillow, and pinned her to the bed, blade at her throat.  
Scara sighed in annoyance when she saw who it was that had moved and woken her.  
"Damn it, woman," she growled, lifting the knife from Katrina's throat. "Never do that again; I always wake up fighting."  
Katrina gave her a glare but didn't say anything.  
"Hmph." Scara sat back, suddenly aware that she wore nothing save a lacey bra and matching panties under a translucent nightgown that might as well have been invisible. Almost her entire body was plainly visible, scars and masculine muscles included. Very few people had ever seen her this scantily clad, and all but one had sneered at her, lips curling in disgust at such a manly body despite her curves. Only Tiff had ever fully accepted her as she was, in spite of all her scars, physical and emotional.  
Blushing lightly, she turned away with a casualness she didn't feel and pulled on her robe, tying it firmly closed in front of her.  
"My boss is coming later tonight," she said, going for her bag to get on some real clothes. "He needs to talk to you, so you're going to have to stay here until he arrives. If..." At that moment, her doorbell rang, and the visitor immediately began pounding on the door, cutting off whatever she'd been about to say. Growling, she grabbed her knife and went to the foyer, throwing up her hands in exasperation when she saw who it was through the window in the door.  
"Thank gods you're alright!" Taylor blurted the moment she let him in, carefully avoiding the light. Thankfully, her entryway pointed north, so for the most part, no sunlight reached her door. The brightness still stung her eyes and made her skin itch.  
"I won't be for much longer; stop standing in the doorway." He quickly ushered her away from the entrance, closing the door after him, and practically pushed her into the welcome darkness of her room.  
"I couldn't get you on your cell," he said worriedly as he went. "I was terrified a Daimon got you, or you hadn't gotten home before sunrise... Ash said you broke your cell...?" Scara facepalmed. Oh, the stupidity of some people. "What?" She pointed to Katrina. "Oh..."  
Katrina stared at them with the most confused look on her face. Daimon was a new term; wasn't mentioned at all during the time she had that sleep/mental conversation.  
"What exactly is it that you people do?" When they didn't say anything for a moment, as if collecting their thoughts, she crossed her arms over her chest. "And don't lie to me. I really don't tolerate bullshit."  
"...We're vampire hunters," Scara said blandly, also crossing her arms. Taylor snickered, swinging his knapsack from his shoulder and reaching into it to pull out a brand-new iPhone 7S, which looked something like a cross between the iPhone 6S and a miniature iPad.  
"Before I forget," he said, holding it out to her, "your new phone."  
"That's not a phone, that's a computer," she scoffed, eying it with raised brow. "I'd crush that faster than I did _that_ one." She gestured to the remnants of her previous phone, still scattered on the floor. Taylor rolled his eyes with a good-natured smile.  
"Figured you'd say that," he said, tossing the 7S on the bed and pulling out an older 5. "This better?"  
"Much."  
"Hey!" Katrina cut in as Scara took the iPhone and quickly inspected it. "I'm serious; what the hell are you people?"  
"You know those things that go bump in the night?" Scara asked, not even looking at her as she turned on the phone and began scrolling through the apps. "We're the people that hunt and kill them."  
"You are both fucking high." was the response they got about five seconds later.  
"Mm, sometimes," Taylor grinned, not at all offended. Scara scoffed.  
"Not on my watch, you're not," she warned. "If I ever see you high..."  
"Relax, Se," he laughed, "I'm kidding. I'd sooner sleep with a woman than get high, and in case you didn't notice, I'm about as gay as they come."  
"Oh I noticed," she snorted. "You'd have to be blind not to see it."  
Holy crap; was she actually bantering with him? What a surprise. She'd expected to be completely closed off for a long time after Tiff's death.  
But then, something about Taylor reminded her of her old friend; just like Tiff, he didn't care what other people thought of him, and he joked about things that other people would consider shortcomings. Both of them seemed to be able to drag out the best in her no matter how much she wanted to wallow and hide.  
She had to hand it to Ash; the man knew what he was doing when he assigned Taylor as her Squire.  
"Tsk!" Taylor pressed a hand to his chest with a feminine grimace. "I'm getting predictable!"  
Katrina rolled her eyes at them. This really wasn't a time to be cracking jokes, but who was she to interrupt?  
"So, ah, what are we supposed to do about Miss Mystery over here?" Taylor asked, eying Katrina up and down as though giving her an entire wardrobe in his mind.  
"Nothing," Scara said, shrugging as she went for her bag again, this time managing to retrieve a set of clothes without being interrupted. "Ash said he'll see about getting here tonight to talk to her himself."  
"Ooh, sounds fun," he said, scrunching up his nose in a way that said belied his words. Then he caught sight of the outfit Scara planned on wearing. "Girl, just what do you think you're doing?"  
"Getting dressed, moron," she scoffed. "In case you didn't notice, I'm not exactly dressed for company." She mimicked his earlier tone, and he obviously didn't miss the rebuttal, but he did ignore it.  
"Uh-uh!" he said, shaking his head. "Not in those clothes, you're not. Tell me you've got something better than leather... Don't get me wrong; leather's sexy as hell, but you gotta wear it right!"  
"Yeah, sure," she said snidely, rolling her eyes.  
For whatever reason, Acheron chose that moment to flash into to her apartment, making Katrina's eyes widen; he'd just appeared from fucking nowhere, she could could tell he was the one 'Storm' had talked to her about.  
Scara, on the other hand, turned bright red; having her boss see her in a robe was more than embarrassing.  
"What the hell?" she shrieked, darting for the bathroom. "I don't care who you are; I'll kill you the next time you do that!" Acheron sighed.  
"...Do I want to know?" he asked, frowning. Taylor sighed, shaking his head.  
"Probably not," he said. "Katrina's over there." He gestured to her, and then went over to the bathroom door, muttering. "Thank goodness I thought to order some good clothes in her size..."  
"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, TAYLOR?" Scara screeched, jerking her robe up as he stepped into the bathroom.  
"Relax, sweetheart, I'm not interested in women," he chuckled, setting his bag on the counter.  
"That doesn't mean you can just walk in here without permission!" she snapped, onyx gaze dropping to her switchblade by the sink. Taylor casually picked it up and flipped it in his hand.  
"Chill out, darling," he smiled, amused by the red-face, disgruntled sight she no doubt made. "You can slice my throat and rip me to shreds if you want, but first we're going to get you dressed to kill, pun completely intended."


	5. Chapter 4

Acheron, ignoring the raucous noise from the bathroom, dropped onto one end of the couch, aware of how imposing he was standing, and gestured to the other end.  
"Sit if you like," he offered. "I've got some questions for you." Even with the sunglasses on, it was obvious his gaze was pinned on Katrina's face. "But you already knew that, didn't you?" She had been warned about how he seemed to just know things, so she wasn't so surprised about that. She let out a sigh and simply nodded before sitting on the opposite end of the couch.  
"Fire away then."  
"Just who is your friend?" Acheron asked, jumping straight to the point. "Please, tell me the truth; I know when people are lying, and because you're not related to me, I can see all of your infinite futures, none of which end well if you lie."  
"I believe most refer to him as Susanoo-no-Mikoto; I just call Storm for short." She rubbed the back of her neck. "The Shinto kami of storms and seas."  
Acheron gave no outward sign that the name meant anything to him, but inwardly he was gnashing his teeth. What the hell was the Japanese pantheon doing getting involved in the Greeks and Atlanteans territory? In HIS territory?  
Even looking into Katrina's future, he couldn't see what Storm was planning. But to take over a human body, he had to have a good reason; Acheron knew from experience the Japanese were the least likely to do things on a whim, so something was going to happen that Storm wanted to be involved in.  
"...He won't talk to me himself, will he?"  
Katrina shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. He told me he'll only show himself under special circumstances..." She trailed off when she felt his mind moving hers to the back seat, her body slumping for a few moments, completely relaxed. Her long bangs thankfully his her eyes as they changed to the liquid gold of the god residing inside her.  
 _Sorry kid, I don't want you to end up almost dying again because he's impatient._ Storm told her as he took full control. He lifted his head and reclined back into the couch as if he wasn't sitting in front of a Chthonian. "You better have a damn good reason for making me come out, Atlantean." His voice was a low growl of warning.  
"You'd better have a damn good reason for encroaching on my territory," Acheron returned, unperturbed. "There's no storm over New Orleans right now; no reason for you to be here. You know something I don't; what?"  
"Can't help that my descendant is here," he said, gesturing to Katrina's body. "And the fact that your Dark Huntress almost got her killed didn't help either. She was supposed to live in scratched until August 29th, her 25th birthday."  
"Oh, so this is my fault now?" Acheron laughed humourlessly. "You've got nerve, Susanoo, I'll give you that. My Huntress saved your precious descendant from Daimons. You remember them, don't you? Nasty little cockroaches that infest my territory. If my Huntress _hadn't_ been there, you wouldn't _have_ a descendant anymore."  
Susanoo smirked. "Actually, that's where you're _wrong_. Katrina _did_ die. Your Dark Huntress called her squire and told him to bring a doctor, but my descendant was already dead before they showed up. Her systems were simply slow to shutting down, which is what brought me here; I had to resurrect her." He let out a slow release of breath. "Which, in turn, awakened one of the two ancient bloodlines within her."  
Acheron narrowed his eyes sharply at the subtle slam to his people's competence. But now was not the time to get into a pissing contest between pantheons.  
"What bloodlines?" he asked, already disliking whatever answers he'd get.  
"Shinto pantheon is obviously one. That's how I'm able to inhabit her body." He shrugged offhandedly. "The other I'm trying to figure out; it's not another god, I know that much. Her birthday is the day the full power of both bloodlines are due to awaken. I'm here to make sure the other bloodline doesn't bring the end of the world."  
"Well, we have the same goal then," Acheron hummed. "You have my permission to remain in my territory. But my Huntress will be accompanying your descendant until we're sure the other bloodline is not a harbinger. Consider her... a bodyguard, if you like. Katrina will have full access to the Squire network through Sebak's Squire, and we'll take care of her like one of our own."  
"Acheron. It's not god, Daimon, or spirit blood. Which only leaves ancient _demon_ bloodlines." Susanoo was silent for a few moments. "Wouldn't be a bad idea to ask your demon broker friend to try identifying the other bloodline. If he needs payment, tell him my descendant's blood will be more than enough." He smirked. "It's almost addicting."  
"Right... Anything else I should know?"  
"Just keep her away from the Daimons," he answered. "She's pretty confused about what's going on and therefore vulnerable and easier to manipulate. If it really is a harbinger bloodline, we're all screwed if they get their hands on her."  
"No kidding," Acheron scoffed. "Been there, done that; not pleasant in the slightest. Like I said; we'll take care of her like one of our own."  
"Take care of who?" He looked over as Scara stepped out of the bedroom, Taylor on her heels with a grin so big, it almost took over his face.  
The Dark-Huntress wore tight black leather pants that hugged every curve to perfection from waist to calf, where it loosened just enough to settle around inch-heeled black boots trimmed in blood red designs that mimicked the blood red designs on the sleeves of her black leather jacket, which was slung over her shoulder as though to avoid covering the loose, silky black blouse she wore tucked into the waist of her pants, just beneath her well-endowed chest. The blouse was unbuttoned to the middle of her cleavage, the lapels carelessly open to reveal the blood red lace of her bra. Her long ebony hair was pulled back with a braid from each temple and one down the middle, the rest left mostly loose but twisted and tucked between the braids in an elaborate, yet delicate updo that wouldn't get in the way when she fought. Two thin braids separate from the rest that dangled just behind her right ear added a warrior touch to her look, as if the cocked, hand-on-the-hip pose she took wasn't enough.  
"Katrina," Acheron answered. "Until the twenty-nineth, your assignment is to protect her. Understood?" Scara scowled.  
"Why?"  
"Are you questioning my orders?" he asked, eyebrow raised.  
"No," she said. He nodded, until she added. "I'm questioning your sanity; I'm attracted to women, remember?" He gave her a sharp look that she completely ignored. "Leaving her with me is like leaving a fresh haunch of meat with a hungry lion. Give her to Taylor; Squires can go out in the sun, unlike Dark-Hunters, and I highly doubt the human is going to appreciate being cooped inside all day long because I have to wait for sunset."  
"Because a human protector isn't going to be enough," Susanoo answered this time, his golden eyes skimming her and Taylor absently. "While you prove a point, she's stubborn and will put up a fight, so you're probably the better option anyway. In any case, Katrina really doesn't give a fuck about gender so that shouldn't be a problem."  
"Oh, now that's low," Scara said, making a face. "Yeah, go ahead and make it that much harder for me to keep my hands off my assignment." Acheron sighed, rubbing his temple.  
"She's yours until the twenty-nineth, Sebak," he said. "No arguments. Susanoo is only here to investigate a small matter involving her lineage. Don't fight with him."  
"Who said I was fighting?" she asked innocently.  
"Don't. Fight," he stressed, pinning her with a fierce glare despite the sunglasses shielding his eyes. She shrugged it off.  
"Fine, whatever," she said. "Just please tell me I can sic Taylor on her whenever she gets annoying." Shaking his head with another sigh, Acheron flashed out.  
"I look forward to it," the Squire giggled, practically wiggling with anticipation. Scara scoffed.  
"You're insane," she said, rolling her eyes, which had been lined with traditional kohl even though there was no need for it at night.  
Susanoo smirked. "Good luck with that, Macbeth. She's a three-time black-belt martial-art champion and will kick your ass if you lay a hand on her." His head tilted almost curiously. "Though I can admit that I hope you remain single until the thirtieth; I will have my own body back by then." He chuckled when the man blushed.  
"Er, I guess you're a little more powerful than I thought," the Squire said, somewhere between nervous and excited. "I didn't think anyone knew my middle name except Ash."  
"Middle name?" Scara glanced at him, eyebrow lifted curiously. "But you're Hispanic."  
"Ah, it's an ongoing joke in my mother's family," he chuckled. "My last name might be Trujillo, but my middle name is Macbeth. Apparently the fact that I'm gay is genetic, because at least one guy in every generation of my mother's side of the family has been, and whenever they come out, their parents change their middle name to Macbeth. I still have no idea why, but so far no one's gone to war for it, so I guess no one really minds. I know I don't." He cast a sidelong glance at Susanoo, as though trying to imagine what he looked like in his own body.  
"Ok, I take back what I said," Scara snorted. "You're not insane; you've lost your mind completely."  
"Hey, what can I say?" Taylor grinned. "Hot guys turn me upside down, and imagining the body to match that voice? Mm-mm!"  
Susanoo chuckled. He got up and stretched his arms over his head. "If this is how you react now, you'll like what you see then. For now, I should give Katrina her body back."  
"Oh boy," Scara said with feigned enthusiasm. The moment the girl had control again, Scara tossed her the shoes and belt she'd taken off the morning before. "We're going out; come on." Katrina looked confused but obeyed.  
"Tsk! You're so mean, Se," Taylor scolded, going over and picking up the bag of clothes and hair Katrina had left on the floor. "Are these yours, sweetheart? I'll get the clothes dry-cleaned for you. Oh, and donate this hair; long enough for a decent wig, don't you think?" He held up one of tails to the back of his head, so the end trailed down over his shoulder, and made 'fabulous' face, batting his eyes.  
Katrina shook her head in amusement. "Hopefully it won't grow out again the next time he takes over." She put her finger to her temple at the word 'he', then she gestured to her hair, which had once again, grew out to hit her mid to lower back.  
"If we hurry, there's a barber shop not far from here," Scara said. "We might be able to make it before they close, if we leave now."  
"Whoa, hold up," Taylor said, putting the hair back in the bag. "It's not quite sundown yet; you go out there now, you're liable to get roasted!"  
"So we keep to the shadows," she shrugged. "Unlike most Dark-Hunters, I _can_ go out in the evening and early morning, so long as I don't let any direct sunlight hit my skin. It's highly uncomfortable, but bearable. Now let's go." She headed for the door this time, leaving them to follow or not.  
Katrina looked to Taylor and shrugged before following the older woman out. "Beats staying inside."  
"Sigh," Taylor said dramatically as he followed. "I guess I'm stuck with you." Then he grinned. "Or you're stuck with me; you know, whichever works."  
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."  
Scara kept her senses tuned to her surroundings, intent on keeping her charge and Squire safe. Not even Acheron knew how sensitive her ears, nose, and tongue were, and if what she heard was to be believed, Katrina was a direct descendant of a Japanese storm spirit. On top of that, she carried the blood of some unknown lineage that could theoretically either save the world or end it.  
No wonder the Daimons found her so appetizing. Also meant Scara's job was about ten times more difficult than Ash had made it sound.  
A gleeful smirk curled Scara's naturally red lips upward. Maybe she'd finally have a battle worth fighting. Even Spathi Daimons hardly made her work up a sweat.  
Well, three or more were a challenge, but even two only made her work a little.  
They reached the barber shop without incident, fortunately, though Scara was a bit disappointed that she missed out on a fight. The stylist was closing up, but he agreed to cut Katrina's hair when Scara offered him an extra hundred, under-the-table as it were. If only it was so easy to convince the girl's resident spirit to leave.  
As Katrina was sitting in the chair, the guy cutting her hair back to her normal pixie bob look, she tried out a little ability Storm had explained to her and spoke to Scara's mind. _'Susanoo-no-Mikoto is a Shinto god, not a spirit. You're lucky he's asleep or he'd kick your ass for thinking that.'_  
Scara twitched, but otherwise made no move to show she heard. Surprise pervaded her thoughts, which quickly dulled to mere emotions. She'd never been one to completely block people out, and she knew she wasn't powerful enough to hide everything from a god, so she left lesser thoughts and emotions on the surface, hiding her most important thoughts away. Only someone powerful and determined would get through the jumble she'd left open, and they'd still have to fight her defenses to get in.  
Not that she really cared either way, but having her thoughts completely out in the open wasn't very appealing, so she opted to make it at least a slight challenge, even if that's the best she could do.  
"Why do you prefer short hair?" she asked aloud, eyes on Katrina, but other senses tuned for threats. Taylor, who had been reading a Vogue magazine while he waited, perked up at the question, interested. Scara ignored his existence. "Long hair looks good on you, you know."  
"Easier to deal with, personally." Katrina shrugged. "And not only do I like feeling wind on the back of my neck, but it's kinda fun. Although... The fact it pisses my mother off is a nice little bonus."  
The mention of a mother sent Scara's mood plummeting. Dark clouds surged through her expression, and she clenched her teeth, turning all her senses to search for potential threats.  
Her own mother had been a cruel woman whose only goal had been to have as many children as possible and marry them off into wealthy, prestigious families. As the youngest child, and the only daughter she ever had, Scara had been withheld from numerous marriage propositions because her mother had insisted she only got the best. Most of the girls she'd known were married off by the time they were ten or eleven, thirteen at the latest. She wasn't married until just after her fifteenth birthday, and even then her mother was still hesitant. Only her father's admonition that she needed to marry soon or be too old to interest anyone secured her future.  
She'd always hated her mother for her heartlessness, and if the old bitch hadn't died before Scara, she would have ripped the woman limb from limb for treating her like a worthless trinket. Now she could only hope her mother was suffering in the deepest circles of hell.  
"Oh, you and Jenny would get along famously," Taylor laughed, oblivious to his Dark-Huntress' foul mood. "My little sister is in her rebel stage, and she'll do anything to piss of the parental units. It's rather amusing, actually."  
Katrina thanked the stylist after he wiped the loose hair off her neck and got out of the seat. She turned around to face them as she ran a hand through it. "Much better..." Then she caught Taylor's look. "Two words: hell no."  
The man pouted. "Aw come on! A little makeup won't kill you."  
"No." Katrina said stubbornly. "I'm sure you'll turn straight before that happens."  
"One of these days, Trina," he smirked, "I will get you in makeup, and a pretty dress, too."  
"Let's go," Scara said gruffly, putting money on the counter for the stylist. "Before you start painting each other's nails."  
On the street, a prickling at the back of her neck made her whirl, searching for whomever or whatever was watching her.  
"Scara?" Taylor cocked his head curiously. "You ok, girl?"  
She scanned the street with narrowed eyes, seeing only couples and groups heading for bars or parties, or home. Someone, or something, was out there, she knew, but she had no clue who or what. That didn't sit well with her.  
"...It's nothing," she said, slowly turning back and glancing at Katrina. "Pick a place; we've got all night, and you're not going anywhere tomorrow."  
"Don't care." She waved off. "Born and raised here. Been everywhere, you can choose."  
"Brand new," Scara scoffed, "been nowhere; you choose."  
"Ladies!" Taylor cut in, stepping between them. "Geez, you've got more testosterone than a sumo wrestler!" He shuddered while Katrina laughed.  
"You did _not_ just compare me to a ball of fat," Scara growled, crossing her arms.  
"Baby girl, you haven't got an ounce of fat on you," he assured, patting her shoulder. "Except right here." He poked one of her breasts. Gaping, she automatically slapped his hand away, covering her chest as blood rushed to her cheeks.  
"Hey!"  
"Even I have to admit," he continued, grinning, "those are pretty impressive jugs you got there, doll."  
Katrina tilted her head curiously, couldn't help actually looking Scara up and down. "He's actually got a point." She bit her bottom lip to try to hold in a smile. "How about Sanctuary? Popular bar, good food and music, all around awesome place."  
"Hmph. Dampen my fun, why don't you," Scara said, glancing away, her cheeks still red. "I've heard about Sanctuary; I'll get no fun with the Daimons, because they all get warned when a Dark-Hunter enters. And those Peltiers've got serious guts to keep it open without backing from the Omegrion."  
"Tch-tch-tch!" Taylor tsked. "Trina might have to know about Daimons and Dark-Hunters for her own safety, but let's leave out the rest unless it gets involved, alright?" Scara made a face at him.  
"Whatever," she huffed. "Let's just go; I could use a stiff drink if I'm not going to be hunting tonight."  
Katrina smiled. "Then Sanctuary is the place you want." She reached out and grabbed Scara's wrist before starting to lead them in the right direction.  
Scara wanted to protest, she really did, but the fact that the girl was a foot shorter and still not intimidated, even in the slightest, made Scara admire her in a way not many had. Like Taylor, she reminded her of Tiff in some ways; she wasn't scared of her, nor did she seem to have any issues with Scara's attraction toward her. It seemed as though even in Shadedom, Tiff was still looking out for her, guiding her to people who could fill the hole in her heart left by Tiff's death.  
So instead of complaining, Scara let herself be led to Sanctuary.  
Taylor and Katrina lead the Dark-Huntress into the club, just in time to see the last tall blonde of a group run out the back door.  
Katrina looked back to the bouncer on the way in before turning to Scara. "Why does he smell like a bear?"  
Scara scoffed and jerked a thumb at Taylor.  
"Ask him, since he's apparently deciding what we can and can't tell you," she said. He made a face at her, but explained anyway.  
"Short version is that a long time ago, Apollo made a new species of humanoids called Apollites, but they angered him and he cursed them to die horrendously on their twenty-seventh birthday. Some Apollites figured out how to live past that deadline by devouring human souls and becoming Daimons. A long time ago, but not quite as long, a sorcerer king married an Apollite, and had two sons. When his wife died on her twenty-seventh birthday, he realized his sons were going to suffer the same, and to prevent that, he spliced their genes with those of the strongest animals he could find: bears, leopards, jackals, tigers, even a dragon. Unable to contain them completely, they began splitting into two races, one that was primarily animal and could take human form, and one that was primarily human and could take animal form. The animal-based race are called Katagaria Were-Hunters, and the human-based race are called Arcadian Were-Hunters." Pausing, he gestured around the bar. "Sanctuary is run by the Peltiers, a Katagaria Bear family."  
"That's short?" Scara snorted, sliding into a booth.  
"Hey," Taylor said, gesturing for Katrina to take a spot, "at least I didn't go into the Omegrion and Savitar, and relations with the Greek pantheon and Acheron and Dark-Hunters, and the Dream-Hunters, and all that fun."  
"Oh gods, shut up now," she groaned. "The last thing I need is a headache..."  
Katrina stared at him in disbelief. "Wow... Not quite as complicated as the Shinto pantheon, but not a bad second."


	6. Chapter 5

"Yeah well, that's just the tip of the iceburg," Taylor snorted. "But it doesn't really matter; all you need to know right now, sweetie, is that Daimons find your soul extremely appetizing, and Scara here is going to protect you."  
"Lucky me," the Dark-Huntress said sardonically.  
"Hey Taylor!" the waitress greeted as she came to take their orders. "Haven't seen you in a while; where ya been?"  
"Oh, darling, don't even get me started," he laughed. "I've got a new Dark-Hunter to serve the every whim of." He nodded toward Scara, who gave him a bland look. "Aimee, this is Scara Sebak. Se, this is Aimee Peltier, the current owner and head of Sanctuary."  
"Nice to meet you," Aimee smiled pleasantly. "Dev said you were tall, but wow..."  
"Deveraux Peltier is her brother," Taylor explained. "And the bouncer who let us in. Aims, I don't know if you've actually met Katrina or not..."  
"I've seen her around," Aimee nodded. "How ya doing, hon?"  
Katrina shrugged but gave a small smile. "Not too bad actually."  
"Good," the blonde waitress nodded. "So what can I get for everyone?"  
"A little Fang might be nice," Taylor teased, winking. Aimee laughed.  
"I swear you have a death wish, Tay," she said, rolling her eyes. "He's _my_ mate, and if he heard you talking like that, he'd probably kill you just in disgust. For that matter, if I thought you were serious, _I'd_ kill you."  
"Eh, it's fun living on the knife's edge," he grinned. "I'll take a cup of Cherise's Gumbo, and Sebak is looking to try and drink you out of business."  
"Sounds like a challenge," Aimee smirked, quirking a brow at the Dark-Huntress.  
"It is," Scara said, returning the smirk. "Assuming you actually have something worth my time."  
Katrina smirked. "This'll be fun."  
Aimee hums in agreement. "If only I weren't on duty; I'd take you up myself."  
"Another time then," Scara said, flashing her fangs. "I'll be around until I die or get reassigned; whichever comes first."  
"Only because the event of one negates the other," Taylor snickered. She made a face at him, unamused.  
"I'll take whatever you have on tap that's strong," she said to Aimee.  
"Should you really be drinking on duty?" the bearswan asked, frowning.  
"I'm not," Scara explained, and jerked her head toward Katrina. "Just guarding the princess here."  
Katrina gave her a glare. "Shut up."  
Aimee shrugged and headed to the bar to put in their orders.  
"It was that or 'pussycat,'" Scara retorted. She mock hissed at the girl, baring fangs and curling her fingers like claws.  
Katrina rolled her eyes. "That would be you more than me."  
Taylor snickered. He was getting entertainment just by watching the two of them.  
"You got something to add, _sweetheart_?" Scara asked him, raising an eyebrow at him. He stuck his tongue playfully at her.  
"I'm not the one flirting, Se," he teased.  
"Ha ha, very funny," she snorted, trying not to blush. "I don't flirt. I kill. And if I see something I like, I take it."  
"Then I will make sure to leave the apartment to you tonight," he ribbed. "Wouldn't want to get in the way, after all... No better cock-block than a noisy, unwanted guest. Or I guess, pussy-block."  
"Fuck you!" Scara blurted, blushing furiously.  
"Sorry; not my type," Taylor smirked. "Unless you've got a long one you're not telling me about."  
Katrina laughed. "Nice!" Then she gave Taylor a smirk. "I somehow get the feeling you're never on top in the bedroom."  
"Oh, I can be," he chuckled. "You'd be surprised. I just prefer the bottom; more fun."  
"God, I'm gonna hurl," Scara growled, sitting back and crossing her arms. Because of how tall she was, and how long her limbs were, she had to sit diagonally across the seat to avoid tangling her legs with Katrina's and Taylor's.  
"You know you love me," the Squire teased. "What is there not to love?"  
"Everything." She shifted and put one leg out of the booth so she could stretch out a bit, and hardly had she done so then a tall young man in his early twenties with a linebacker build and a cocky arrogance that could only mean he was a star athlete at some college or another with a sports scholarship.  
"Hey there, sexy," he greeted Scara, leaning on the back of her seat. Taylor leaned closer to Katrina.  
"This is gonna be good," he whispered, grinning. "How much you wanna bet she puts him flat on his cocky ass?"  
Katrina smirked. "I already know she will."  
On a normal day, Scara would already have laid him out. But several things stopped her. For one, he wasn't bad looking, despite his obvious awareness of the fact and his abuse of it, and the tiny part of her that liked male company was half-tempted to bed him once just to sate the stupid fire in her belly. For two, she was aching to get back at her companions for their teasing. And for three, she was bored; why not liven things up a bit?  
So instead of hooking her leg around his and planting her fist in his chest, she smiled at him with a beguiling look.  
"Hey," she returned, eying him head to toe lustily. "You're not here alone, are you?" The subtle glance he cast to the side drew her attention to a group of college guys glancing surreptitiously in their direction. So this was a dare, then.  
"Nah," he chuckled, a touch sheepishly. "Truthfully, the guys think I'm too cocky to pick up someone like you." Ok, so the bravado was barely more than skin-deep. This would be fun.  
"Don't see why," she purred, noting Taylor's skeptical, expectant look out of the corner of her eye. "What girl in her right mind would turn down a hunk like you?" The young man laughed.  
"You're just saying that to make me feel better, aren't you?" he asked. Smiling pleasantly, she reached up and took hold of his shirt front, using it to yank him down and plant her lips on his, being careful not to let him feel her fangs. While he was distracted, she manifested a piece of paper with the number of a break-up hotline, and when she pulled away, she tucked the paper into his hand.  
"Does that answer your question?" she asked in a sultry tone. "Go ahead and tell your friends you got my number." Dazed, he nodded and walked away. Smirking, she turned to feast on her companions' shocked expressions.  
Katrina simply rolled her eyes and looked away, just in time to see Aimee coming over with their orders. The blue eyed girl got up. "I'll be back in a second." With that, she left the booth and headed towards the back of the club where she knew there was a bathroom.  
After Aimee set everything in the table, she looked between the two remaining occupants. "Anything else I can get you?"  
"Not that I can think of," Taylor said. "But then, I don't think my brain is really working right now..." Scara smirked.  
"We're good," she said, waving the bearswan off. Aimee nodded.  
"Enjoy," she said, heading for another table.  
"Eh, shouldn't you go with?" Taylor asked.  
"Why the hell would I go with the waitress?" Scara asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"No, Katrina," he said. "I mean, I know Sanctuary's supposed to be a safe place, but accidents happen..." She scowled; he was right, and if something happened to the girl, Acheron would have her ass.  
Standing, she gulped down half of her drink in one go, pleasantly surprised by the decent taste and the perfect burn.  
"Fine," she sighed, setting the glass down and heading after Katrina.

Katrina had disappeared into the back, heading for the bathroom, but made a last second decision and headed out the back door, hoping to make it around front and ask of one the young suckers trying to get into the club for a cig. She really could go for one right about now. This wasn't too hard to do when she made it to the front. She grinned at a young man towards the back of the line, practically jumping waiting to get it.  
Katrina walked over, passively acknowledging he was blonde and gave a seductive smile. He was a good half foot taller, not badly built for a guy. But he was easily outdone by all the bouncers and staff of Sanctuary. "Wouldn't happen to have any cigs on you, would you, handsome?" She normally didn't flirt, but she knew how to do it and _definitely_ good enough to gain some interest from the individual.  
He gave her a charming smile as he pulled a pack out of his jacket pocket. Opening it and holding one out to her, he looked her over with lust in his eyes. "Care to pay with a kiss?"  
Katrina shrugged and stood on her toes before kissing his cheek and taking the cigarette before stepping away. She laughed at his disappointed look.  
"You never said where," she teased before putting the cancer stick between her lips and pulling out a lighter she always carried to light it.

The bathroom was empty. Uncharacteristic panic gripped Scara's stomach and she stepped out of the bathroom, closing her eyes to focus and send out her senses, turning her aura perception on max. She ignored normal humans and skimmed past demigods, demons and Were-Hunters. Taylor caught her attention, but only for a second, before she passed him and extended her senses outside. The moment she found Katrina, she bolted for the front door, pushing past protesting patrons and slamming out of the club. Dev jumped out of the door's path, cursing and glaring at her, but she returned it so fiercely he was set back for a moment, long enough for her to pick Katrina out of the crowd. Lips curling in an angry snarl, she strode over and ripped the cigarette from between the girl's fingers.  
"Hey!"  
"Shut up, bitch," she snapped, grabbing Katrina's arm. "I'm supposed to be protecting you. How the fuck am I supposed to do that when you're sneaking out and..." wrinkling her nose at the cig, she tossed it to the ground in front of the man it had come from and stomped it out "...taking coffin nails from strangers that could just as easily be the people hunting you?"  
Katrina cast her a feral glare and tugged at her grip. "I can take care of myself. You were only assigned for the tougher assholes." By that, she meant Daimons and demons; Storm had let her listen in on the conversation between himself and Acheron.  
Scara's eyes narrowed as she returned the glare.  
"I oughta leave you be and let _any_ asshole that comes at you have at it," she growled, her grip tightening for a moment before she let go. She hated that she'd freaked out so much, and she cursed the fact that she was stuck with a woman whose sex appeal was only outdone by her mule-headed nature. "Next time you disappear without telling where you're going, I'll sling you over my shoulder and carry you home, and I'll handcuff you to the bed."  
Someone whistled a cat-call at the idea of women and handcuffs in bed, and she turned a sharp look in their direction, effectively silencing them, as well as any further teasing. Then she spun on her heel and headed for the door, pausing only long enough to glance back at Katrina.  
"Don't go getting into any..." Trailing off, she stopped and turned partway back. "No, on second thought, go find trouble; I could really use a punching bag right about now."  
At that, the crowd went utterly silent, and a wide path formed between her and the club door the moment she made a move for it. Even Dev stayed out of her way, and said nothing about almost getting mowed down.  
Katrina grumbled as she made her way back inside. Now she was in a bit of a foul mood. She got the same clearance as Scara had to the door, but didn't pay it any mind.  
It was almost disappointing to see her charge follow like an obedient calf, and Scara scowled, but said nothing. Taylor, as though sensing the mood, remained silent until Katrina sat down again, and then engaged in polite small talk with her, as if he knew that trying to talk to his Dark-Huntress would result in a curt insult, a bitch-slap, or both.  
Scara finished off her drink and ordered a second promptly, followed soon by a third and a fourth. It wasn't until the fifth one that she started to feel a slight buzz, and then she stopped drinking; no matter how pissed off she got, she wasn't about to endanger her Squire or her charge, Acheron or no Acheron.  
As she listened to her companions discussing dresses versus skirts, she wondered why she'd never been able to talk about such simple, random stuff like that. Why she'd always been so angry, so closed off that she never let people, even innocent bystanders, start crazy conversations with her.  
Then she pushed those thoughts away; her entire life revolved around death and destruction; 'fun' wasn't a part of her agenda, even if she wanted it to be.  
Sitting back, she tuned her senses outward for threats and pulled out the butterfly knife Taylor had given her. It had beautiful black ivory handles with impressive gold scrollwork inlay, and a black dagger blade with the Eye of Horus etched into the base of the spine. She admired the exquisite handiwork as she gently cleaned and treated the blade with a solution she was never without.  
Though she didn't realize it, her expression softened as she surreptitiously took care of her weapon, avoiding scaring the patrons by keeping it out of sight of passersby.  
Katrina noticed but said nothing about it.  
Toward morning, the club began emptying, the crowd thinning out as people headed home, many to nurse hangovers that were already starting. Scara checked her watch around 2, when she noticed Taylor's natural exuberance starting to fade.  
"Alright," she said, standing. "Come on; time to get the two of you to bed." Taylor pouted.  
"Aw, but we're having so much fun," he protested genially, hints of a smile betraying him.  
"Yeah, and it's a weeknight," she scoffed. "I'm sure you have classes or work or something tomorrow, and I'm not taking the blame if you fall asleep in the middle of it. Do I need to drive you home?"  
"Nah," he said, serious now as he shook his head and stood. "I'll be fine. Call me if you need anything, girlfriend." With that, he headed out before them. Scara watched him until she was sure from his steady movements that he would be alright to drive. Then she jerked her head for Katrina to follow; she wasn't quite ready to talk to her yet, for fear of snapping again.  
Katrina let out a sigh through her nose, but got up and followed out of the club. Her hand occasionally brushed her hair behind her ear just for something to do, even though it would fall back to the side of her face.  
After the fourth or fifth time she did so, Scara sighed and took her arm, leading her on a new path to a small shop across the street displaying a sign in the window that proudly proclaimed it was open 24/7.  
"Wait here," she said, placing Katrina by the door. Then she went inside and went straight to the counter, where a bored young man was flipping through a porn magazine. He quickly stuffed it under the counter when he spotted her, and she pretended not to notice.  
"C-can I help you?" he asked, clearing his throat.  
"Do you sell hair clips or head bands?" she asked in return. He thought a moment, then snapped his fingers.  
"Yeah, yeah, we do," he said, embarrassment forgotten. Then he came around the end of the counter and seemed to realize she was almost a full foot taller than him. He tilted his head back to see her, swallowing at her height.  
"Hair clips?" she prompted, smothering her agitation lest she freak him out completely.  
"Ah, r-right..." He went over toward a front corner of the shop and gestured to a section of hair care products on the wall. "Here. T-there's a two-for-one sale o-on hair brushes a-and hair ties..."  
"No need," Scara said, plucking a wide, sky-blue headband off the rack. "This is all I need. How much?" Giving her a wide berth, he quickly rang it up, and she paid cash, adding a small tip for scaring him and silently telling herself it didn't affect her, though in truth, it stung as it always did that people avoided her for her height. Then she took the headband and went out to where Katrina waited, somewhat impatiently. Keeping it out of sight until the last moment, she slid the headband on the girl, pinning her bangs back out of her face.  
"Try that," Scara said, trying to maintain stoic against the sudden wave of desperate desire to kiss her.  
Katrina gave her a curious look as she reached up and felt it. Then realizing what it was, she blushed a little. Her voice came out in a soft whisper. "...thanks."  
Breath catching, Scara gritted her teeth and glanced away  
"Whatever," she muttered. "Come on; sunrise in two hours, and I don't want to get burned..."  
Katrina smiled softly before walking beside her as they headed back to Scara's apartment. Despite the height difference, the blue eyed shorty had no problems keeping up with the elder woman's strides. When they were more than halfway back, out of the blue, she asked. "If you could be any animal in the world, what would you be?"  
Scara's steps slowed for a moment; the only sign of her surprise. Then she continued.  
"...A cheetah, I suppose," she hummed after a moment. "Speed and strength combined in a lithe, agile body. Like Bastet, the Cat Goddess." She glanced at Katrina out of the corner of her eye. "Why do you ask?"  
Katrina shrugged. "No reason. Just kind of randomly popped into my head."  
Scara's apartment was in sight before she spoke.  
"...If you could, what animal would you choose?" she returned softly, not sure why she was even asking. Usually, she'd snap a quick response and leave it at that. Why was she acting so strange now?  
It must be the move, she convinced herself; losing her only friend and jumping from Florida to Louisiana was messing with her and making her more emotional, that's all. She'd harden back up in a few weeks.  
There wasn't even a pause before Katrina answered. "A fox. Lithe body and silent and stealthy, but also just adorable." Katrina smiled, she was starting to warm up to her.  
Something about the way she said it made Scara interested. She could imagine a dark-coloured lupine with white markings darting through the night, bright blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Then she quickly pushed aside the mental image, glancing at the girl.  
Bad idea... A wave of desire thrummed through her, and she almost shuddered at it's intensity. She should _not_ have gotten that headband; an unhindered view of the petite beauty's face made her hungry for a taste of those perfect lips.  
"Thieving creatures that steal young from their nests," she growled, clenching her jaw. If she could piss Katrina off enough, maybe the girl would stay as far away as she could. "You a thief, then?"  
Katrina's lips turned up into a playful smirk as she looked up at her from underneath her dark lashes. "Maybe... Maybe not..." She trailed off with a purr.  
That was _not_ what Scara wanted. Another two steps and they were at her front door. She gritted her teeth and unlocked it, letting Katrina in without looking at her.  
"If you're hungry," she said, doffing her jacket, "I think Taylor left a sandwich in the fridge. I'm going to take a shower and go to sleep." Pausing by the bedroom door, she pinned the girl with a narrow look. "Do _not_ wake me up before dark; I _will_ kill you, guardian spirit or no. God... Whatever the fuck he is."  
The girl giggled. "I promise to be good, scout's honor."  
Annoyed and trying to ignore the fiery need in her belly, she closed the door and headed for the bathroom, stripping as she went. She turned the shower on a relatively cold temp in hopes of cooling down, but by the time she got out, she was no less horny than she had been going in. Growling, she resolved to ignore it and just go to sleep.  
Unfortunately, the feel of her sheets through the thin material of her lace bra only made her breasts more taught, more desperate to be tasted. Throwing off the sheets, she curled up on her side and closed her eyes, for once eager for the nightmares to chase away her desire.  
After what seemed an eternity, she drifted into restless sleep.  
For once, her nightmares weren't haunted by her past; instead of watching Amenhapu's death, Scara herself was killing someone. She could feel the lifeblood flowing out of them, could hear the gurgling cries for mercy, could taste the sweat and blood on her lips... In the darkness, she couldn't see anything, but she instinctively knew it was someone she cared about. Even still, the bloodlust in her goaded her on, demanded the slow, torturous death under her blade. When the lights came on suddenly, she sat back, blinded, and let her eyes adjust. What she saw sent horror coursing through her.  
Katrina was spasming in front of her, choking on her own blood and staring at her with eyes that begged to know why. Frantically, Scara dropped the knife and tried to stem the bleeding, but she knew it was too late; the girl had lost too much blood. Already, Katrina's movements were slowing, stopping. The light left her eyes, still focused on Scara's face. Dead. Accusing. Just like Amenhapu's.  
Screaming, she lunged upright in bed.


	7. Chapter 6

Katrina rolled her eyes and headed into the kitchen. She heard the shower come on as she set about making something to eat, making extra for Scara to have later. After she was done, she sat on the floor before the couch and switched on Castle, a murder mystery series.  
Several hours later, a scream from the bedroom made her look up in confusion. She got up and walked over to the door before lightly knocked her knuckles against the wood. "Hey... You okay?"  
Jumping up, Scara darted to the door and yanked it open, hair swirling around her. Seeing Katrina alive and well, albeit surprised and confused, Scara snatched her close, relieved. She held the girl tight, trembling with fading adrenaline and breathing shakily as she tried to slow her thumping heartbeat.  
Katrina wasn't dead. Amenhapu was. That was in the past; this was the present. Katrina wasn't Amenhapu; Scara was protecting her. She was still alive...  
Katrina blinked in confusion. "Scara... ?"  
Abruptly remembering how little she wore, Scara shoved the girl to arm's length.  
"Nightmare," she explained, voice gruff and raw from the scream. "Nothing more. Forget about it." With that, she quickly closed the door and leaned against it, flushing deep red in embarrassment.  
Katrina simply stared at the door for a few moments before she snapped out of it and shook her head.  
Then she recalled the warm flesh that had been pressed against her moments ago and shivered. Oh... The girl definitely had all the right curves to fit in her book. Little taller than she was used to... She shrugged; she had no problems with that. In fact, it made her that much hotter.  
She realized where her train of thought was going and facepalmed before returning to the living room. "The hell am I thinking...?"

Gods, she was going to have to get her act together before she made the mistake of a lifetime. Going to the window, she peeked out to discover there were still two hours till sunset, at least. Hissing at the burn on the backs of her fingers and her scarred cheek, she began grumbling in ancient Egyptian as she picked out clothes from the bag Taylor had brought her.  
She slid into a pair of off-black cargo pants that hugged her waist and hips, gathering in perfect clumps at her ankles, and threw on a slightly short blood red cami that almost immediately slid up to reveal a thin band of skin over the hem of her pants. Then she pulled her hair back in a high ponytail and washed her face before going out past the living room to the kitchen for something to eat.  
Meat. That's what she needed. And not the fine piece of ass sitting in her living room. She took a box of chicken wings and drumsticks from the fridge and tossed it in the microwave for a few minutes, not seeing anything else in her need to taste flesh. While that heated up, she went around the apartment and double-checked all the shades to make sure absolutely no sun got in, avoiding even looking at Katrina.  
The blue eyed descendant raised a curious brow at her, but didn't question aloud. At least until she was done checking all the shades. "Did I do something to piss you off?"  
"I don't know, you tell me," she snipped sarcastically, going back into the kitchen as the microwave pinged. "I mean, you're the one who approached me at the bar, you're the one who attracted those idiot Daimons, you're the one who got herself killed and had to be resurrected by a freaking god or something, and you're the one who careened into my life and threw everything out of balance..." Taking her food out of the microwave, she tossed it down on the counter in annoyance and popped open a large bottle of Jack Daniels Honey, drinking straight from it and savouring the heady burn followed by soft sweetness.  
Katrina rolled her eyes. "...bitch." She muttered under her breath.  
Scara snorted, taking drink and food into the living room and setting them down on the coffee table. Snatching up the remote, she changed the channel until _Bones_ came up. Shoving Katrina's legs out of her way, she sat and leaned toward her.  
"Right back at you," she said deliberately. Then she picked up the bottle again and sat back, taking a swig as she rested her arm across the back of the couch and propped her feet on a corner of the table.  
Katrina rolled her eyes again and smiled a little as she snagged a drumstick and took a nice bite into it.  
Casting a glare in her direction, Scara lifted her legs and set them down between Katrina and her food, creating a pseudo-barrier.  
A quiet buzz from the bedroom drew an aggravated sigh from her lips and she stood, setting the bottle down.  
"Don't touch my food," she warned. "Unless _you_ want to become my food." She curled her lips to display a fang before disappearing into her room to find the cellphone Taylor had given her. He was the one calling, of course. "What do you want, kid?"  
"Oh please," he giggled good-naturedly. "Call me Tay."  
"You've got three seconds to tell me what you want, _Macbeth_ , before I hang up," she scoffed.  
"Just wondering if you were going to take Trina shopping," he said cheerily. "Jenny wants her dress back, and Trina needs a good wardrobe anyway."  
"How about, no." Scara went back to the living room and held the phone out to Katrina. "Give him your address and he'll pick up some clothes for you."  
Katrina laughed. "Only if he wants his internals handed to him on a silver platter by a Greek Scotsman, who's probably starting to lose his mind on where I am." She took the phone and put it to her ear. "Don't worry about it, I need to tell my brother I'm fine anyway."  
"You have a brother?" Both Scara and Taylor asked, surprisingly at the same time.  
"Yeah. Older. Gay and last I heard, on the verge of breaking up with his boyfriend. From what I hear every couple nights, pretty damn good in bed, too."  
Taylor let out happy squeal. "Oh! What's his name? Better yet, what's his number?!"  
"Taylor," Scara snapped, taking the phone back with a glare at Katrina. "I'll say this once, and only once, so pay attention. Keep your personal life out of work; got it? I don't give a damn who you fuck, but not on my time, understood?"  
"Yikes... Yes, ma'am," Taylor answered. "Um... Does that mean I can't accompany you escorting Trina home?" Scara pinched the bridge of her nose, jaw working as she tried not to growl.  
"Fine," she managed past gritted teeth. "If you're here by sunset, you can come with." Ending the call, she tossed the phone on the coffee table and picking up her bottle again as she sat. "I fucking hate you right now..."  
She gave the older woman an innocent look. "Did you mean that to me or him?"  
"Both," she growled, taking a hearty gulp and exchanging the bottle for a wing that she set between her teeth to pick up her phone and text Taylor.  
 _We're taking my car; if you're not in it in_ she glanced at the clock at the top of the screen _twenty minutes, you're not going._  
She'd barely locked the phone before he sent a reply.  
 _Got it; c u in 15._ Snorting, she dropped the phone in her lap and bit into the wing.  
The younger snorted in amusement. "I seem to have a talent for that."  
"I noticed," Scara said blandly. Finishing the wing and grabbing a drumstick, she stood again and went to the bedroom for shoes and a jacket, returning for the last drumstick and another hearty dose of Jack Daniels. Then she checked the time and turned off the TV. "In the car; let's go."  
"What am I? A dog?" Katrina retorted, but got up and dusted the back of the borrowed dress anyway.  
"Yeah, a bitch," Scara reminded, waving her hand dramatically as she opened the door. "After you, _princess._ " Taylor's green-decal-on-black Mustang pulled up to the curb at that moment, loud music thrumming through the stereos and turning off with the engine before the Squire himself jumped out wearing a sexy off-black button-up tucked into tan slacks, both of which set off his dark-tanned skin nicely. His dark brown, almost black hair, was tousled and he tried to tame it by running a hand through it once or twice, then pushing his sunglasses up as he bounced over, grinning like a madman.  
"Ladies," he greeted. "Glad I made it."  
"I'm not," Scara said blandly. "Get in the car, both of you, before I leave both your asses."  
Katrina looked to Taylor and shook her head as she rolled her eyes. The squire simply shrugged before all three piled into Scara's car.  
"Oh, his name's Demetrius by the way," Katrina told the only male in the car.  
"Ooh, sounds sexy indeed," Taylor crowed, lounging in the back seat. "Hope he doesn't mind flirting right off the bat."  
"Don't feed the headache," Scara growled, glaring at him in the rearview. "It's bad enough already."  
"You know, if you loosen up a bit, it won't be so bad," he pointed out. "Maybe get a massage, a good soak in a hot tub..."  
"Cracking your head against a wall," she added. "Yeah, sounds great." He made a face at her.  
"Yeh, very funny," he said, but mercifully kept his mouth shut after that as Katrina directed the Dark-Huntress through the city.  
Katrina snickered at Taylor's suggestion. "I would have added 'get laid' cause it's a really good stress reliever, actually."  
"Oh gee, thanks," Scara scowled. "Remind me of the one thing I can't do that I need more than anything because I'm stuck with cock-blockers." She passed a sharp glare at Katrina this time. "I can't leave you alone long enough for that or Acheron will have my hide. I rather like it right where it is, so I get to be a nun for the next week and a half."  
Katrina glanced at the date on her phone. "The twenty-ninth is actually five days from now." She clicked the screen off. "Hopefully we find out what the other bloodline is before then."  
Scara only humphed, and said nothing else until they pulled up in front of Katrina's place. She parked and got out, glancing around almost automatically for Daimons or other threats.  
Katrina made straight for the door and didn't get far inside before she was tackled and hugged close to the brown hair, hazel eyed, overworked big brother. She grinned and hugged him back.  
"Hey Deme!"  
Demetrius then held her at arm's length with a slight glare in his face. "Just where in God's green acres have you been?! I was just about to call in a missing person report!"  
Katrina rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. "It's a long story..."  
"I can see that." He deadpaned, looking down at the blue dress.  
The girl blushed. "Shut up. This was not my idea for clothes."  
The twenty-eight year old simply rolled his eyes before looking up to the other two in the doorway. "And just who are you two?"  
"Hopefully your next bedmate," Taylor purred, eying him up and down with a smirk. Scara release a low growling sigh through her nose and elbowed him in the gut, hard. Gasping, he bent double, wincing.  
"Next time," she warned, "it'll be lower." Gray-green eyes widened and his hands shot to his groin.  
"Anywhere but there!" She gave him a look and he darted between Katrina and Demetrius, putting his hands on Katrina's shoulders to make sure she was between him and Scara. "Save me, Trina; she can't kill you..."  
"Who said anything about killing?" Scara scoffed. "I don't kill anyone who doesn't attack me first." Taylor breathed a sigh of relief. "I just make people _wish_ they were dead." He paled again.  
Katrina rolled her eyes. "Just leave him alone. He is the one doing all the daytime runs for you."  
Demetrius didn't look impressed. At all.  
"Yeah, just be glad you're my assignment," the Dark-Huntress chuffed, crossing her arms and leaning against the hood of her car. "I wouldn't hesitate to rip through both of you." Taylor managed a passable laugh.  
"Somehow, I rather doubt that," he said. "Acheron wouldn't allow it; besides, you swore an oath, remember?"  
"Keep believing that, snowflake," she returned, but this time he could see the slight gleam of amusement in her eyes. He scoffed in relief, pressing a hand to his chest.  
"God, Se, you scared me half to death!" he scolded.  
"Hm, next time I'll have to work a little harder," she noted. "Maybe I'll push you all the way." He grinned, leaning on Katrina's shoulder.  
"You're forgetting one thing, sweetheart," he said. "I'm not bi, and I'm _certainly_ not straight; only guys get me off."  
"Sure, you say that now," she snorted. "Just wait until I off you." She sliced a thumb across her throat in demonstration. "Now get your asses inside already; the longer you stand out here, the more likely it is an enemy will spot you."  
Demetrius sighed. "Just somebody explain, what the fuck's going on."  
Katrina made her leave from the room. "I'm gonna go pack some clothes." She had made it two steps up the stairs before she called down. "And Storm says it's fine to tell him!"  
"Wonderful. It's Storm's ass on the line, then, if we get in trouble for this," Taylor said, expression turning serious as he faced Demetrius. "Short version: there are creatures called Daimons; they're basically vampires, but instead of blood, they drink human souls to extend their lives. Artemis-oh, and every god you've ever heard of exists, along with thousands of others-Artemis created a group called Dark-Hunters to protect humans from Daimons; when a person dies an unjust death, and their soul cries out for vengeance, that scream summons her and she offers them twenty-four hours to get their revenge in exchange for their soul. From then on, they have certain abilities that help them battle Daimons, who are stronger, faster, and more powerful than average humans. Scara, Miss Scary Lady over there, is a Dark-Huntress. I'm her Squire; we Squires are ordinary humans who help Dark-Hunters by basically doing anything they can't do, like going out in the daytime-Dark-Hunters and Daimons are both banned from the day because of Apollo, but that's another story. We also cover up any incident that might alert other humans to the battle going on in the shadows, like when a Daimon kills a human and leaves their body where others can find them; New Orleans is a supernatural hotspot, so not many people question it when a body turns up with vampire bites, but in some places, it's not so normal, and Squires cover it up whenever they can. Anyway, Katrina has a really strong soul because she's, like, some sort of demigod or something-we're not exactly sure what-and Daimons are really attracted to her. She also has some unknown blood running through her veins, and our boss, Acheron Parthenopaeus, assigned Scara to watch over her until her twenty-fifth, when the bloodline gets activated." Stopping, Taylor took a moment to breathe. "Ok, did you follow any of that?"  
Demetrius simply raised a brow at them. "And you expect me to believe this?"  
Katrina had just come back downstairs at the end of Taylor's explanation, a duffle bag over her shoulder. "Unfortunately yes, I did actually die about two days ago."  
"What?!"  
The blue eyed girl nodded sadly. "The only reason I'm alive now is because my so called 'god' of an ancestor resurrected me."  
"Yeesh," Taylor mock shuddered. "Having a god in the family never ends well... Half the Dark-Hunters I know have some sort of relation to a god, and you see how their lives turned out..." Sighing, he shrugged. "Ah well... Ce'st la vie and all that... Ready to go, sweetie?"  
Katrina nodded before standing on her toes a bit to kiss her brother's cheek. "I'll call to let you know I'm okay."  
Demetrius let out a long sigh and ruffled her hair, which she fixed so the headband sat right. "Just stay safe."  
Katrina smiled. "I'll try."  
Taylor paused in herding her out the door to glance back and wink at Demetrius.  
"Trina will have my number if you're ever interested," he grinned. "I'm not usually quite so prissy." Not giving him a chance to reply, he waved and bounded after the girl, calling back, "See you 'round, sexy!"  
"Get your ass in the car before I kick it," Scara warned, opening the door for Katrina.  
Katrina flashed her a smile before climbing in. Once Taylor jumped in, she turned and smirked. "He would so dominate your ass."  
"And I would love every second of it," he smirked. "There aren't many guys that I'll turn sub for, but _that_ is definitely one of them." He turned to look out the back window as Scara pulled away. "Mm-MM! Just you wait, sexy; if I can't satisfy Trina's god, I am _so_ jumping your bones, boy."  
"Taylor Trujillo, one more word and Jenny'll be an only child!" Scara snapped.  
Katrina laughed. "Hell, you might be able to get a threesome out of it. You'd be the definite bottom on that one."  
Taylor started fanning himself as the thought of both a god and a delicious Greek-Scot taking him made him quietly moan.  
Katrina snickered. "I think he just had a fangasm."  
"You're not helping," Scara snarled at the girl, casting a glance at her, and immediately regretting it; the quirky smirk she wore sent a sudden need to kiss the girl through her. It was aggravating and she had to force her eyes back to the road, silently cursing Acheron, Susanno, and the Fates. "He doesn't need any encouragement..."  
"No, but it certainly helps," Taylor said, sighing wistfully, excited anticipation in his expression.  
The blue eyed descendant laughed. "I would almost pay to see the results." At Taylor's confused look, she grinned and winked at him. "You're riding with a huge yoai fan."  
Taylor grinned. "We're gonna have to compare notes; I know some really good sites for boy's love fictions." Scara groaned and began thumping her head against the steering wheel as she waited for a light to turn green.  
"Kill me now..." she whimpered. "I'll take Shadedom over this!"  
Katrina giggled and reached over to pay her shoulder. "Don't worry, I know a bunch of good yuri too."  
Scara cast her a bland look as she continued on toward home; no sense in going out tonight if she wasn't hunting. "Definitely not helping."  
"Got yourself a lady boner there, Se?" Taylor teased.  
"No," she answered promptly. "Shut up." His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.  
"Oh my god, you do!" he laughed. "Should I leave you two alone tonight?"  
"Would you stop it?" she snapped back. "I will pull over and beat the hell out of you; don't think I won't!"  
Katrina bit her lip to try to keep her laughter in, but the smile on her face and her shaking shoulders gave it away.  
"I swear, you two are like...!" The word 'kids' stuck in Scara's throat, wiping out all interest in Katrina for the moment. Her grip on the wheel tightened in an effort to stop the trembling that signaled the start of a panic attack as images of her beloved son flashed through her mind.  
Suddenly overwhelmed, she slammed on the brakes, twisting the wheel to bring the car to the side of the road, where she rammed it into park and shut off the engine, jumping out without even taking the keys from the ignition.  
Taylor, thinking she was truly angry and making good her threat, paled.  
"Scara, we were just messing..." he began, absently rubbing his shoulder where it connected with the back of Katrina's seat. But the door slammed shut, cutting off his words.  
Thankfully, they were only a block or so from Scara's apartment and she made it to the door before the panic attack really hit. Hands trembling, she dropped the keys to the door, and collapsed trying to pick them up. Breathing in short gasps, she cradled her head in her hands, reliving the worst moment of her two-thousand-plus-year life.  
Katrina paled, Scara's reaction had been similar to that of her own father's PTSD reaction he gained from fighting in war. Certain things set him off and when he went off, it was never good. She hopped into the driver's seat and turned the ignition back on before stomping on the gas. She was not going to leave her to go through it alone.  
The moment Katrina parked, Taylor jumped out and ran up to the door. He started to reach for Scara, but stopped himself, knowing she could well lash out without realizing what she was doing. Instead, he carefully scooped up the keys and unlocked the door, opening it wide.  
"Scara," he said, keeping his voice low and even, masking his fear. "Scara, honey, come inside..."  
Katrina switch the ignition off and bolted up the stairs, locking the car as an afterthought. When she came to the door, she ignored Taylor's protests and dragged Scara up and took her inside, despite the woman being much larger than herself and thrashing a bit. She wrestled the woman into her room and pushed her down on the bed.  
Immediately, Scara grabbed her by the neck and twisted, pinning the girl to the bed. A furious light gleamed in her eyes as she wrapped her hands around Katrina's throat and began squeezing.  
The intruder had to die; he raped Amenhapu's corpse! A slow, painful death at her hands; that's what he deserved. No, he deserved worse, but this was all she was capable of at the moment.  
A sickening crack rang through the room, and for a split second, everyone froze. Then Scara's eyes rolled back in her head, her hands loosening, and she slumped over, landing half on Katrina. Taylor stood at the end of the bed, gun in hand with the muzzle smoking, and a grim determination in his expression.  
"She's gonna kill me later," he grimaced. "But I didn't know what else to do..."  
Katrina coughed several times as she sat up. There were faint handprint marks on her neck and gold had started to peek at the edges of her eyes.  
"Are you ok?" Taylor asked, helping roll Scara to one side of the bed. He gently touched the marks on Katrina's neck with a worried frown. "I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop her in time..."  
"If you hadn't..." She slightly wheezed as she gestured to her head as the gold started to fade. " _He_ would of."  
Taylor shuddered. "When she wakes up, we need to find out what the trigger was; no telling what she'll do next time." He glanced at the by-all-accounts dead Dark-Huntress. "Did you know, she's one of the strongest Dark-Hunters in existence right now? Obviously that's not counting former Dark-Hunters, or beings like Ash who call themselves Dark-Hunters... She and Tiffany were the only Dark-Hunters that patrolled Tallahassee. And when most big cities need at least four or five Dark-Hunters, that's saying something."  
"Yeah. Kinda figured that out myself," she bit out sarcastically as she carefully got up. She grabbed Taylor's sleeve and dragged him out into the living room, shutting the bedroom door behind her. "Since we're on the topic... What got her transferred out here?"  
He winced and glanced at the door.  
"...Ok, whatever you do, do _not_ mention this to her," he said, pulling her further from the door in case Scara healed quickly and came out in the middle of the conversation. "Like, ever; she'll freak... Honestly, the only reason I know is because I _have_ to know everything about my Dark-Hunter. About a week ago, give or take, she was seriously messed up over an insult some guy gave her for flirting with a waitress, and she told Tiffany; the two were seriously tight for, like, a couple of centuries. Tiff, being a good friend, came over to her house to hang out with her and help cheer her up. But Dark-Hunters can't be near each other for long, or they start to lose their powers. It was a safeguard Artemis programmed in to keep them from teaming up and overthrowing the gods. Tiff stayed with her practically all day, so they were both pretty much mortal by nightfall. That night, they were still recovering, and Tiff got kill by a pack of Daimons. Now, you have to understand... Dark-Hunters are soulless; when they trade their soul for vengeance, they literally lose it, immediately. So when they die, they become Shades, cursed to walk the earth, forever hungry and thirsty, but unable to eat or drink, and never seen by anyone less than a super powerful god. Scara blames herself for Tiff's death, and she couldn't stay in the city they'd spent centuries protecting. That's why Ash moved her here, to recover for a few decades before she goes somewhere else."  
"Jesus Christ..." She muttered as she ran a hand through her hair. "I can imagine what that's doing to her."  
"I can't either," he admitted, glancing again at the door. "But that's not even the worst she's suffered through; back when she was mortal, in ancient Egypt, her entire family was slaughtered. I don't know all the details, of course, but from what I've heard, and from the way she acts around others, I know she refuses to let people close because she's terrified of losing them. She, like, thinks she's cursed or something... And honestly, I don't blame her; anyone would think they were cursed after losing so many people. In fact, I'm a little surprised she's still alive; most people would have killed themselves by now, Dark-Hunter or not."  
Katrina nodded then sighed. "Hopefully we can figure out what set her off before it happens again."  
"No kidding," Taylor huffed, lifting the gun. "As much as I love my baby, I hate using her." He checked that the safety was on and began disassembling it with practiced ease. Used to getting questions, he automatically started explaining. "Beretta 92FS; an old style gun, but still reliable, and still popular in the military. It's got a great heft without being too heavy, and the slide doesn't..." Pausing, he trailed off, a light blush creeping into his cheeks as he glanced up, gun still half-assembled in his hands. "Sorry... I'm a bit of a gun-enthusiast; comes with the territory."  
She smiled. "Not a bad thing to have, especially with the life you have."  
"Definitely!" Suddenly grinning, he reassembled the gun in seconds and held it out. "Know how to handle one? I can teach you. With her..." he jerked his head toward the bedroom "...you might need it."  
The woman nodded and gently took it from his hold. "I agree."  
Stepping behind her, he put his arms around her shoulders and gently took her hands, moving them to hold the gun correctly.  
"Like this," he said, "and never put your finger on the trigger unless you're actually going to pull it. Rest your trigger finger here." He nudged it to rest on the trigger guard. Touching the various parts of the gun, he explained them. "This is the safety; like this it's engaged, so the gun won't fire, but you can flick it with your thumb..." he demonstrated "...and disengage it pretty easily. This is the slide release. You don't need to worry about that for now; that's for taking the gun apart. This is the mag release, so you can put a new clip in if you empty the chamber." Turning the gun a bit, he showed her a small red mark near the top of the gun. "This is the load-indicator; it'll tell you if the mag is full or not. Since I only used one bullet, it's still alright. Now, let me see you aim."


	8. Chapter 7

Scara felt an immense pounding in her head, like her heart had made its way up and swelled to thump against her skull in a valiant attempt to escape that way. Her Dream-Hunter must be having a field day right now.  
What the hell happened to give her such a killer headache? She started to sit up and immediately regretted it, wincing and slowly lying back down. Even the pressure of the pillow hurt, but it was better than trying to remain upright, so she stayed for a little while, until the sharp, intense pain dulled to a heavy throb. Then she carefully, _slowly_ sat up, gingerly swung her legs of the edge of the bed, and eased herself to her feet, cringing at both the pain and the amount of blood soaking into her clothes and sheets.  
Well, thank gods it hadn't gotten in the carpet; blood was a bitch to clean up, and would be nearly impossible to get completely out of the carpet. At least the clothes and sheets could be thrown out.  
Making her way carefully to the door, she gently opened it, flinching at the click that rebounded in her head like a gunshot. That, and the sight that greeted her in the living room reminded her what happened; Taylor shot her.  
Everything flooded back at once, just as he and Katrina looked over, and she groaned at the weight of it, cradling her head in her hands and collapsing to her knees in the doorway. The jolt sent a fresh wave of agony through her skull, and a soft yelp of pain broke past her lips as she fell against the door frame.  
Katrina ducked under Taylor's arm and rushed to her side. "Hey... Take it easy Scara..." She slowly placed her hands on her shoulders to help keep her steady.  
"...back..." Scara took a deep breath through her panting and managed a worthwhile snarl. "Get back!" Taylor quickly snatched the girl away from her, in case she attacked again. She whimpered, pressing the palms of her hands against her temples and digging her nails into her skull in a vain attempt to mask the healing-pain with outward pain. A vague sense of jealousy ran through her as she recalled the scene she'd walked into; Taylor's trim, muscled build pressed against Katrina's luscious back... She knew the boy was gay, but it didn't stop her from wanting to kick his ass for touching Katrina like that.  
Latching on to the jealousy like a lifeline, she pushed against the pain, trying to heal herself all in one go with pure conscious effort, just so the pounding would stop.  
"I'm... going... to _kill_ you... Macbeth..." she spat, grimacing and whimpering again. Taylor winced in sympathy.  
"Sure," he said amiably. "Just get fully healed first..."  
Katrina simply stared, unsure what to do, but hating the feeling of being helpless to help the woman.  
After what seemed an eternity, the pain eased a bit and Scara slumped against the door frame, exhausted and ready to go back to sleep to let D'Vrek guide the rest of her healing.  
"Tay..." she said, still breathing heavily. It took her a moment to get her tired eyes to focus on him as he stepped past Katrina and crouched in front of her.  
"What's up?" he asked, poised to do just about anything she asked.  
"Will... you be here long?" she asked in return. He glanced at Katrina.  
"I'll stay as long as you need me here," he said. "I'll watch her while you sleep." She nodded, too tired to work up an actual response, and reached up to grab the frame above her to help steady her as she stood.  
Katrina was hesitant to step forward and help in case she lashed out again. She did also seem the type to be completely stubborn about accepting help.  
Taylor, on the other hand, had no such qualms; he took Scara's arm and pulled it over his shoulder. At just about half a foot shorter, he fit almost perfectly under her arm, and that made it a little easier to support her. She tried to pull away, but after she stumbled, she didn't try again. He led her back to the bed and helped her lay down on the clean side, slipping her jacket off and gesturing to Katrina to take it as he pulled a dry part of the sheet over Scara, who didn't even bother trying to protest.  
Katrina held the jacket in a tight grip as she bit her lower lip. Once Taylor directed her back out of the room, she finally got her voice to work. "She's gonna be okay, right?"  
"She should be," he nodded, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. "Dark-Hunters are almost impossible to kill... Almost... And they heal remarkably fast. Beheading, of course, kills just about anything but a god, and there've been rumours about some Daimons killing a Dark-Hunter up in Alaska just by stabbing their mark." At Katrina's look of confusion, he explained. "When Artemis takes someone's soul and turns them into a Dark-Hunter, she puts a hand on their body and pulls their soul out through there, leaving a double bow and arrow mark behind. I think Scara's is right here." He touched a spot on the base of his spine, where people tended to get pinstripe tattoos.  
She tilted her head slightly to the side. "...interesting." She couldn't think of anything else to say to that.  
"You hungry, sweetheart?" Taylor asked, scooping up the Beretta as he headed to the kitchen and 'holstering' it in the back of his pants. "I can make you something if you like."  
She nodded. "Probably might be a good idea... A nap ain't out of the question either."  
He laughed and waved for her to take a seat.  
"I'll be right out," he promised, and promptly began fixing a meal any chef would be proud of, if a bit skeptical of in terms of size; he boiled some broccoli and cooked a small pot of mashed potatoes, mixing up some gravy from scratch. In between all that, he sliced some beef and put that in the oven for a little bit.  
Within half an hour, he had two plates of elegantly arranged food and plenty left over for Scara when she woke. Popping open a couple of beers, he brought everything out to the living room and set it on the coffee table.  
"You don't mind Bud Light, do you?" he grinned. "As I recall, you were drinking some pretty strong stuff the night we first met."  
Katrina smirked. "No. I'll drink just about anything." She picked up a beer and took a swig.  
"My kinda girl," he chuckled, raising his own in salute. " _Buen provecho_ , _mi amiga_." He gulped half of it down in one go, humming in contentment.  
She smiled a bit as they started to eat.  
Taylor turned on the TV and gestured for Katrina to sit in front of him.  
"Come here," he grinned. "I want to try something with your hair." When she did so, he started making small braids and twists, playing around with different styles, enjoying himself immensely. "You have the healthiest hair I have seen in a long time; I absolutely adore it."  
Before she could respond, they heard a noise in front of the house. Instantly, Taylor was on his feet, gun in hand, eyes toward the door.  
"Stay at my back," he warned softly. Moving slowly toward the door, he gritted his teeth and swallowed hard.  
 _Don't panic,_ he told himself. _Relax, breathe, think._ Whoever, or whatever, was out there, they would seriously regret coming around here.  
Assuming he didn't freak and shoot someone completely innocent... Then he'd be the one regretting.  
Katrina mentally reached towards the back of her mind, where Storm's godly essence stayed. He told her she could borrow some of his powers should the need arise, and right about now seemed like a good time.  
With Taylor's back to her, he didn't see the very outside rim of her irises turn gold as the storm god bled some of his powers into his descendant.  
Katrina shivered at the presence she felt on the other side of the door, reached out and grabbing Taylor's elbow before he could reach the door. "Wait," she said quietly. With some mental guidance from her ancestor, she focused on the feeling on the other side of the door, letting out a relieved breath when she realized there were actually two auras outside, but she easily recognized one. "It's your boss, Tay."  
"Damn..." Taylor's relief was audible as he lowered the gun and went to open the door. The moon outside was already on it's descent and nearing the horizon; the eastern sky held the first touches of dawn, suggesting the night was just about over.  
"Gun away, Trujillo," Acheron said levelly, stepping past him.  
"You had to freak me out?" the Squire asked, putting a hand against his chest as though to physically slow the pounding of his heart. "I thought something was trying to get in! Whatever happened to your weird, invasive teleporting thing?"  
"And get a bullet to the heart or head?" Acheron snorted. "Not a chance. I may not die from it, but it hurts like a mother-fucker... As I'm sure Sebak can attest to."  
"Ehh... I _had_ to..." Taylor began, wincing. "I-"  
"Enough," the Dark-Hunter leader said, raising a hand. "I know what happened. That's not what I'm here for." He gestured to the man with him. Taylor was immediately unnerved by the two different coloured eyes that bore into him as though seeking his very soul; the man was powerful, for sure. Not quite as terrifying as Katrina's god, but just as deadly, if not more so.  
"This is Jaden," Acheron explained. "He's here to get a handle on Katrina's situation." Casting a glance at his companion, he added, "Play nice, Jay." The man's lips curled in a snarl, revealing sharp white fangs.  
"I'm only doing this because I owe you big time, Ash," he growled. Then he cut his gaze toward Katrina. "...And because I never could resist the blood of the damned..." His tongue curled slowly around one fang, as though already tasting her blood.  
Katrina's face showed a clear sign of irritation. Taylor thought it was because of the way Jaden looked at her, but he was proven wrong when she opened her mouth.  
"Do you all really have to be fucking giants?! I already feel short at it is!" Being only 5'4 made people, both figuratively and literally, talk down to her and she HATED it. She was really starting to hope that once both bloodlines awakened on her birthday she'd get some fucking height.  
Taylor's jaw dropped. He half expected Jaden to strike her down where she stood, but to his surprise, the man (or whatever he was) grinned.  
"It helps us attract prey," he said, though the gleam in his eyes made it hard to tell whether he was just teasing or completely serious.  
"Stop trying to scare her," Acheron scoffed. "I told you already, she's a descendant of a storm god; it'll take a hell of a lot more than a demon to scare her." Jaden's dual-coloured gaze narrowed and his smirk turned to a scowl.  
"Maybe I should blast you down then," he said, crossing his arms. "That'll put the fear of me into both these humanoids."  
"Already done," Taylor said quickly raising his hands. "Since you're here, Ash, can I go hide until he's gone?"  
"The fuck is going on out here?" an angry voice growled from the bedroom door. "Can't a girl get some sleep to recover from a bullet to the head?" Scara glared at every one of the people in her entryway, pitch gaze coming to rest on Jaden. "Who the fuck are you? Don't just come barging into my place without permission."  
In a flash, Jaden had her pinned to the wall, but before he could say anything, she hooked her leg around his and shoved him back, making hims stumble just enough for her to snatch his arm, twist it around behind him and slam him against the wall in her place. Immediately, he blasted her; she fell back with a cry of pain and he whirled to finish her off. Acheron caught his arm.  
"Enough," the Dark-Hunter said evenly. "She's no more a threat to you than a dog is to a lion, and she doesn't know who you are, so cut her some slack." Jaden gave him a fierce glare that would have any lesser man fleeing in terror.  
"Next time, I go straight for the throat," he warned, "so keep your lapdog off me." He jerked his arm out of Acheron's grip and stepped past him.  
Sighing, Ash turned to Scara, who was curled against the wall, not even noticing the pain in her chest where Jaden had blasted her; she was cradling her head and biting back moans at the intense migraine wracking her skull.  
While Taylor and Katrina both had winced in sympathy for the hit Scara took, the blue eyed descendant couldn't help but blush a little at the amount of the power the blast probably was. While she felt bad that the older female was more pain than she had been before; for some odd reason, Katrina had a slightly liking to pain, the only kind of pain she didn't like was choking. Taylor seemed to notice and raised a brow silently at her. She looked away from him to not give him any hints. Though she had a feeling the two immortal men in the room already knew now.  
Crouching, Acheron put his hand on Scara's shoulder. She gasped as fiery pain seared chest and head, only to fade completely away a moment later. Not even a tiny hint of a headache remained. Startled, she looked up at him with wide eyes, but he just smiled and patted her shoulder.  
"Can't have you out of commission just yet," he chuckled. "Taylor's good, but not nearly good enough." He glanced up at the Squire, who barked a laugh.  
"Hey no offense taken," he said. "In fact, I back that statement one hundred percent!"  
"So, who's Mr. Temper?" Scara asked, leaning against the wall because she didn't want to deal with standing up at the moment.  
"Watch it, Bedheti," Jaden scowled. "My next blast might just make you wish you _could_ die." She froze at the use of a name she'd never told anyone. Only Acheron knew it and him only because he'd been told by Artemis; when she'd gotten her revenge and was waiting for her first assignment, Acheron had come to her using that name. She'd immediately said she never wanted to hear it again, and he'd let her choose a new name.  
"...How...?" She stared hard at him, half in threat, half in shock.  
"I make my living knowing everything about everyone," the demon broker said. "I know about Amenhapu and Horemheb too." Scara lunged to her feet. "Better sit your ass back down, Huntress, or I'll put you on it myself!"  
"Stand down, both of you!" Acheron cut in sharply, stepping between them. "Sebak, one warning; you mess with Jaden, it's at the risk of your life, and since you have no soul, I strongly advise against it. Jay, you're here for Katrina, _not_ to antagonize my Dark-Huntress."  
"Fine," Jaden growled. "I'll do what I can."  
Even though she didn't understand the meaning behind the names, Katrina could tell it obviously was something about Scara's past that scared her. She pushed her curiosity aside when Jaden turned his heterochromic eyes back to her before stalking over to where she stood in just a few short strides. She tilted her head back to look up to meet his gaze, quite a determined look in her own deep blue.  
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Jaden's brow furrowed. He glanced at Acheron, then dropped his lopsided gaze back to the young woman in front of him, frowning. A scowl of angry irritation worked its way onto his lips and he turned away.  
"I'm out," he said shortly.  
"Jaden, what is it?" Acheron asked in a tone that left no room for argument or denial. The broker stopped and met his gaze through the sunglasses.  
"I don't know." Those three simple words held such weight that tension in the room threatened to burst through windows, doors, and any other similarly weak sections of construction.  
"...You don't _know_ , or you can't say?" Acheron clarified, a tiny twitch in his jaw the only sign of his building anxiety.  
"If I couldn't say, I would have said, 'I can't say,'" Jaden snapped. "I meant what I said, Acheron: _I DON'T KNOW_. Whatever bloodline she carries, it's being hidden from me, and you of all people know what that means."  
"...What does that mean?" Taylor asked hesitantly, speaking the question on his and the girls' minds. Jaden said nothing, for once keeping his bravado to himself. Acheron, on the other hand, scowled, invisible hackles rising like those of a threatened animal.  
"...It means neither of you are leaving this house until the twenty-fifth," he answered evasively, looking first at Scara, then Katrina. "If you need anything, Taylor will get it. Otherwise, I don't want you anywhere near this place, got it?" He turned his shaded gaze on Taylor, who grimaced, but nodded.  
"Yes, sir," he answered promptly, though he didn't like the idea at all.  
A thought occurred to Katrina, an idea from Storm that she had to voice. "Why not try straight from the source? Sometimes it's easier to detect straight from the blood." She pointed to her temple. "At least, that's what he says."  
"Susanoo has a point," Jaden noted to Acheron, who was already nodding. Stepping up to Katrina, the Dark-Hunter took her hand and stretched out her arm as the broker stepped forward. Without any sort of prelude, Jaden sank his fangs into the girl's wrist, Acheron keeping her still in case she jerked.  
Scara, though she knew the girl was in no danger, made a noise of protest that she immediately bit back, clenching her jaw and fists. Taylor, meanwhile, just made a face and glanced away, disliking the feeding process he knew most non-human beings used.  
Katrina closed her eyes and focused on just breathing properly, she tried not to squirm but the feeling of his fangs in her arm actually didn't feel bad, a little strange but not bad at all.  
Jaden continued to drink from her until his eyes snapped open. He pulled his fangs out and licked the wound shut, making Katrina squirm again. He ignored it as he looked up to Acheron. "We're seriously fucked."  
"Are you going to explain," the Dark-Hunter asked calmly, "or just beat ass while you still can, as is your wont?" He released Katrina as Jaden stepped back, and Scara was across the room in moments, putting herself between the broker and her charge.  
Katrina moved to stand beside her, giving her a look.  
"...She's a Mazuko," Jaden admitted grudgingly.


	9. Chapter 8

Katrina's eyes widened; she knew what those were. She answered the silent question in Scara and Taylor's minds. "A super elite class of demon. The name Mazuko itself roughly translates into 'Devils Demon Tribe'. They easily live two or three hundred thousand years and gain strength by eating the flesh of humans."  
"Assholes are damn near impossible to kill, too," Jaden added with a growl. "The only _known_ way to kill them disappeared about three thousand years ago."  
Scara scowled in annoyed confusion. "You mean some sort of weapon? Or a person who knew how?"  
"Weapon," Katrina elaborated. "The Kusanagi; pretty much Japan's Excalibur. No one knows what it's made of, but it can kill just about anything. It unfortunately disappeared in the middle of a battlefield and hasn't been seen or heard of since." She shrugged at Taylor and Scara's looks. "I'm half Jap. I know the stories."  
"I'm sure it helps having an expert in your head," Acheron noted, a light teasing smile on his lips. Scara shook her head.  
"So, call me an optimist," she said blandly, "but how does that fuck us over? In case you didn't notice, Katrina isn't exactly a killing machine..." She glanced at the girl, eying her appreciatively. "Impressive, sure, but not a major threat." She trailed off, a touch of nervousness creeping into her expression. "Right?"  
Katrina gave her a straight faced serious look. "You've had to fortune of not seeing me angry. And you're lucky Storm's the one who came into my head when I was revived and not whoever the hell my other ancestor is." She shrugged before going on. "Of course there is the chance I can die again, giving the Mazuko a chance to get in my head. If that happens and I ever get angry for any reason... Trust me, you're all royally screwed."  
"And unless I'm mistaken, both will fully awaken on the twenty-ninth?" Taylor asked, both immortals and the blue eyed descendant nodded.  
"Great... Anyone got a prepped apocalypse bunker?" he asked, making a face.  
"If it were the apocalypse, a bunker wouldn't survive ten seconds," Jaden retorted. "Especially not if a Mazuko is the cause."  
"So basically, we're screwed no matter what we do," Scara grimaced, crossing her arms. To anyone who knew her well-enough, which in this case meant Acheron, the action was one of defense, though the movement held all the aggression of an angry bouncer. "I mean, if the Mazu-whatever bloodline gets activated, that's the end of the world, right? But k- ...killing her would just awaken something worse..."  
While Scara had rambled a bit, Storm had decided to take over for a little bit. So the irises turned molten gold and serious, calculating look came over the features. And of course, like before, the dark hair grew out again. "As long as the Mazuko isn't given a chance to get to her before the anniversary, then once the powers awaken, it's more a matter of just proper training and we're fine. If not, apocalypse doesn't quite cover the disaster that'll happen."  
"No shit, Susanoo; thanks for joining the party," Jaden snarled. The storm god opened his mouth to reply, but Acheron beat him to it.  
"Got anything for Scara and Taylor to use that'll help them keep Katrina safe?" he asked pointedly.  
"...Depends on what they're willing to pay," the broker answered, giving them each a look that said he didn't expect much. Acheron gave a long-suffering sigh.  
"Out," he said. "You're done here." Jaden made a soft 'ch' sound and rolled his eyes in annoyance.  
"You know I'm not one of your Dark-Hunters, right?"  
"Exactly why I didn't force you out myself," the Dark-Hunter leader pointed out. "Jay. Seriously, you've more than repaid your debt to me." Jaden's features softened and his harsh gaze took on a sort of softness.  
"I'll never be able to repay that debt, Ash," he said. "But thanks." With that, he vanished.  
"Probably still pissed at me about the prank." Susanoo mused.  
Acheron scoffed in vague amusement, but Scara and Taylor exchanged confused looks.  
"Prank?" the Squire asked, a touch interested.  
"Another time," Acheron cut in. "Sebak, my last order still stands; you and Katrina stay here. Taylor..." He put his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Go home. Get some sleep. And talk to your sister; she's having issues that she really needs to talk to someone about." Taylor frowned, worried now, and nodded. While he darted into the living room to grab his jacket and keys, Scara glanced at Susanoo.  
"Ok, now that the bloodline mystery has been solved," she said, "are you still hanging around?"  
He simply nodded. "On lookout for the Mazuko." At her confused look he further explained. "My pantheon killed most of them a long time ago, but the strongest of them, or their leader I guess you could say, disappeared and we haven't been able to find him for a few millennia."  
"Wonderful," she growled. "If anyone says a damn thing about 'only five days to go; what could go wrong,' I'll gut them where they stand, god or no."  
"And on that lovely note," Taylor said, squeezing past them, "I'm outta here. Watch out, sweetie; I'm opening the door." Scara darted to her room and slammed the bedroom door just as the Squire opened the front door. "Say bye to Trina for me!" And with that, he was gone. _  
He does realize I can hear him right?_ the descendant asked her ancestor, who in turn shrugged.  
 _Your guess is as good as mine._  
Then a thought occurred to Katrina. _Ask Ash is he's willing to do a favor for me._  
The storm god sighed before looking to the Atlantean. "Kat's got something to ask you." Katrina was thankfully that he wasn't calling her Hurricane like he had been while he was just a voice in her head.  
"Speak freely, Katrina," Acheron smiled. "I can hear you."  
The girl mentally cheered. _Yeah, not it won't sound awkward! Though it would of been fun to hear Stormy say!_ Susanoo's brow twitched in irritation, and she calmed her giggles before speaking up. _Could you do me a huge favor and personally explain what's going on to my brother? Kinda had to give him a brief cliffhanger's note version before and I feel bad about it. He knows to keep his mouth shut about all the supernatural stuff._ The last part she added on hurriedly before Ash could say anything.  
"Sure, why not?" he sighed. It wasn't like small housekeeping matters were new to him; he had to deal with a lot of the finer details over Dark-Hunter paygrade. Just add another explanation to a long list of things to do. "Thank you, by the way, for that burden, Susanoo. In return, Katrina, I need you to do something for me."  
 _Sure, if I can,_ she answered.  
Acheron hesitated for a moment, knowing he was about to breach an employer-employee trust. But this wasn't just about 'one of his Dark-Hunters'; this was about Dark-Huntress Scara, an acquaintance who needed a friend.  
Fortunately, though Scara's timeline had been a bit blurred by his concern for her, Katrina's timeline was still crisp and easy to read the possibilities of. Where Scara was concerned, he saw thousands of futures, results of both women's conflicted feelings toward each other. Many of them did not end pleasantly, for either party.  
"...Watch over Scara," he said finally, choosing a path that would leave her to choose her own destiny. Just because he _could_ nudge them toward happiness didn't mean he _should_. "She needs someone who won't leave her to be a pillar in her storm... No pun or irony intended, Susanoo."  
The storm god simply shrugged, not caring. Katrina was a little confused by the request, but agreed. Then told her ancestor she wanted her body back, when he tried to argue, she immediately turned the agreement on him saying he'd get his own body back in a little over four days. He finally gave up and gave Katrina control again.  
She grumbled a little. "I serious give up with the long hair." She pulled a pony and off her wrist and just settled for pulling it all up into a high ponytail.  
Breathing a soft chuckle, Acheron leaned over and gave her a soft, fatherly kiss on the top of her head.  
"Good luck," he said, seeing so many unhappy endings for her that he almost wanted to break the rule Savitar had given him never to interfere with fate, one he kept meticulously because of experience. It took all of his self-control to keep his mouth shut and flash over to her house to talk to her brother.  
And the first reaction he got was the twenty eight year old yelling, "Holy Hell in a hand basket!" and falling flat on his ass after bumping into the counter from jumping in shock.  
"Close enough," the Dark-Hunter snorted, amused. "I'm Scara's boss. Call me Ash. As a favour, Katrina asked me to explain everything to you..."  
At Katrina's name, Demetrius was instantly alert. "Is she okay?" He couldn't help but worry then though he knew she could take care of herself.  
"She's fine," Acheron assured, raising a hand. Then he extended the hand to help him up. "She's with Sebak and Susanoo. Of all my Dark-Hunters, there's no woman I trust more than Scara; she'll take care of your... sister. And of course, Susanoo being a god and all, it's highly unlikely she'll die anytime soon anyway."  
Demetrius accepted the hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. But he raised a brow at the mention of the Shinto storm god.  
"Take a seat," Acheron bid, following his own advice. "I'm sure you've got questions, and for now my schedule is clear, so get comfortable."  
He let out a shaky sigh and took the seat opposite Ash. He had a feeling this was not going to leave him the same.

Meanwhile, Scara took a moment to gather her thoughts, piece through them, and try to decipher the oddities she found.  
It was bothering her that she felt so strongly toward Taylor and especially Katrina. Acheron she knew she could trust, and if he trusted Jaden, she would refrain from attacking. But Taylor was young, human, and cheerful; her exact opposite. And Katrina... Well, without even touching the can of worms on Susanoo and the Mazuko, she was Scara's charge, someone to be protected, nothing more. Loyalty to her job was something the Dark-Huntress understood, but protectiveness against people who were at least mostly on the same side as her?  
Her preferences were getting to her, and she needed to stop looking at Katrina as a woman before she did something they'd both regret.  
Katrina let out a sigh before going over to her duffle bag and digging out some clothes to change into. "I'm gonna take a shower." She told Scara as she moved past her to head for the bathroom.  
A curse formed on Scara's lips but she didn't voice it. When the bathroom door closed, she flopped back on the bed with a groan at the heat building in her stomach from the thought of Katrina in the shower. Water cascading down that perfect body, trickling between firm breasts and across excellent thighs...  
When she heard the water come on, Scara grabbed a pillow, pressed it to her face and screamed in frustration.  
Katrina let her thoughts wander as the hot water pounded into her back. With her birthday being four days off now, it was going to get more risky. No doubt someone was going to try to come after her, especially now that it was confirmed that her other bloodline could pretty much damn the entire world.  
She let out a sigh as she ran her fingers through her long hair. Then that thought drifted to the feeling she got when Jaden sank his fangs into her wrist earlier. Shivering in delight at the memory, she imagined it being Scara that bit her, and more towards the neck or... She cut that thought off before it could go any further. Dear god, the world was at risk of ending and she could only really thinking about having sex with the woman just outside the bathroom door? She was officially insane now.

Carnal attraction had to be the worst thing Scara had ever experienced. Well, at least now, when she could do nothing to sate it; leaving the house would bring Acheron's wrath down on her, and she didn't dare touch Katrina.  
Even with that thought ringing through her head, she still found herself with her hand on the bathroom doorknob. Immediately, she jerked her hand away, as if it had burned her. Then half growling, half sighing, she leaned against the wall by the door, closing her eyes and trying not to imagine the beautiful woman a mere ten steps from her.  
The water turned off, and she tensed, trying to decide whether or not to move before the girl came out and found her there. She was still debating when the door opened and Katrina stepped out, hair wet and dressed in her own clothes. She glanced at the bed where Scara had been earlier, and then headed for the living room.  
Scara didn't even realize she was moving until she had her arms around the girl's shoulders, body pressed against her back, nose buried in the wet locks that still smelled strongly of shampoo. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deep, drowning in a scent that was part her own, from the shampoo, and part Katrina's.  
Katrina tensed when she felt arms wrap around her. She then realized it was Scara and relaxed slightly.  
Every sane part of Scara screamed at her to get away from the girl, but the stupid part won out and she pulled the girl closer, gently pressing her lips to the back of Katrina's jaw, just by her ear. Then she ran her tongue over her lips, transferring the flavour of the girl's skin to her taste buds, which sent shivers through her. She scraped her fangs lightly over the skin of Katrina's neck to the collar of her shirt, longing to sink them in and taste her blood, but knowing that to do so would make her no better than the Daimons she hunted.  
A low moan bubbled up and spilled from Katrina's lips as her own body pressed back against Scara's taller frame. The smaller woman reached back and laid her hands on her lush ass, giving it a firm squeeze.  
That succeeded in shredding all but the tiniest modicum of self-control, and Scara dropped one hand to cup the girl's breast. Gods damn her, but she wanted it too badly to care.  
"Is that a yes?" she murmured against Katrina's neck, voice dusky with lust. Not that it really mattered what answer the girl gave; Scara was literally one movement from tossing her onto the bed and ravaging her regardless.  
Katrina moaned again. "...yes," she breathed quietly.  
Almost before the word finished passing her lips, Scara had her pinned against the wall, jet eyes flashing with a hunger that was feral even for her. Leaning down, she stopped just short of kissing the girl, mouth hovering less than an inch above Katrina's.  
"I shouldn't," she whispered, hands placed firmly on the girl's hips to keep them from wandering. "But if you don't run now, I will."  
A teasing smirk played across Katrina's lips as she looked up at her through long dark lashes with those blue eyes that were darkened like the ocean in the middle of a storm. Her hands moved around her hips and started to run across the skin of her lower back. "Then what are you waiting for?"  
The last word was muffled by Scara's tongue, delving deep into the girl's mouth. She was careful not to catch tongue or lips on her fangs, but that was about the only thing she was conscious of as she lifted the girl up and carried her to the bed. She laid the girl down and pulled away just long enough to tug her cami over her head and toss it away, leaving her in the same lacey bra she'd been wearing when she'd pinned Katrina for waking her up. This situation was quite a bit preferable.  
Scara straddled Katrina and slid her hands up the girl's sides, dragging her shirt up while she ran her tongue up the girl's neck and latched on to her pulse point. Oh, how she wanted to taste the blood flowing just beneath her lips...  
Katrina brought her hand up to the back of her head and gently pressed her closer to her neck as her free hand reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. She easily took it off and was quite enjoying feeling Scara's teeth and breasts pressed against her. Her legs hooked over her hips to pull her down against her.  
A low growl of pleasure rumbled deep in Scara's chest as cloth rubbed against the center of her body. Not for the first time, she wished her powers included the ability to don and remove clothing with a thought. Instead, she was relegated to the longer, torturous process of removing each piece by hand; she couldn't get either of them stripped fast enough, interspersing the process with heady kisses and sensuous touches.  
The blue eyed Jap descendant didn't seem to mind though, at one point she even flipped their positions so she was on top of the older woman, placing hot kisses to her collarbone and moving her way down until she latched onto a nipple.  
A soft gasp of delight broke past Scara's lips and her eyes rolled back in her head. When was the last time she'd ever felt such pleasure? Not in a long time, she was sure; most all of her past trysts had been quick, animalistic, a mutual quelling of desperate need. This... This was... Scara couldn't even think of a word to describe it. 'Heaven' came to mind. Bliss. 'Ecstasy,' possibly.  
Raising her knee, she pressed her thigh against the wet folds of Katrina's body, smirking when the girl jerked and moaned. Reaching down, she replaced leg with fingers, gently feeling.  
Katrina's hips squirmed against her hand, needy. Unbeknownst to either, her teeth had grown a little sharper since her revival, a fact that came to light when she bit down on Scara's breast, squeezing her free breast with one hand while the other trailed down her stomach.  
The Dark-Huntress cried out and flipped the girl onto her back, rolling on top.  
"Taunting me..." she scolded breathlessly, scraping her teeth across Katrina's neck and shoulder. "I can't bite..." Putting one leg between the girl's, she shifted and pressed the center of her body to Katrina's, shuddering joyously at the soft wetness.  
Katrina moaned and bucked her hips up to hers.  
Gasping, Scara moved against her.  
"Gods," she whispered into Katrina's hair. "Do you have any idea what you do to me... bitch?" There was no malice in her voice, like the first time she'd said it to the girl, only teasing adoration.  
She chuckled quietly. "I have... a pretty good idea."  
"I doubt it," the Dark-Huntress moaned, running her tongue up the crease behind the girl's ear, and back down the outside edge before gently nipping her lobe. "But you will soon." A particularly ambitious rub of their bodies punctuated her words.  
Katrina moaned louder as her nails dug into her back.  
Tender heat built in Scara's body as she moved against the girl.  
So much for remaining emotionless toward her; Scara was sure that if anyone threatened Katrina, it would be at the risk of their life, because she'd rip their throat out.  
Overwhelming warmth seeped to every corner, every fiber of her being, and she shuddered as desperate need hit, drawing her peak closer.  
The blue eyed woman moved a hand down to her ass and curled her nails into the soft flesh there. Dear gods this feeling was intoxicating. She was intoxicating!  
Capturing Katrina's lips with her own, the taste set Scara's head spinning and succeeded in pushing her over the edge. She moaned deep in her throat as she sought to extend the orgasm with gentle but quick movements.  
Katrina groaned in pleasure and bucked her own hips against hers, the jerky movement causing a twinge of electricity to shoot up Scara's spine. The older woman cried out, shuddering at the last, intense shots of bliss through her body. Her arms trembled, wanting to rebel against holding her weight off the girl, but she forced herself to move, which fortunately helped push back the threatening darkness of sleep. Shifting down the bed, she flicked her tongue across one nipple, then the other. She laid a trail of feather-light kisses down surprisingly toned abs before moving her lips to the inside of Katrina's thigh, avoiding the place she knew the girl would be wanting her to taste and instead scraping her teeth against the soft delicious skin of her inner thigh.  
The blue eyed descendant moaned loudly, tangling her fingers into Scara's hair as she shivered to the scrape of teeth.  
The Dark-Huntress winced as Katrina brushed her scar, but refused to react; this was the girl's moment, and she wouldn't leave her high and dry... Well, high and _wet_... just because she was a wimp against her memories. Gritting her teeth, she gave herself a moment to push the memories back while she brushed a finger across the skin around the wet folds, teasing, not touching... yet.  
Katrina moaned again. Dear gods, the woman was driving her crazy! Her hips bucked again.  
Snorting in amusement, Scara dipped her head to take the girl in her mouth, growling at the taste of her. She let out a gasp then groaned loudly, her hands tightening in Scara's hair as she pressed her hips against her mouth. Licking first up one side, then the other, the Huntress paused, and then plunged her tongue deep inside the girl. The mixed blood let out a cry in pleasure, lightly pulling her hair as her inner muscles clenched. Scara smirked. From there, it was easy enough to draw the girl into an orgasm.  
Katrina screamed with her release and then fell back, panting as she tried to regain her breath. With one last flick of the tongue that made the girl's oversensitive body jerk, Scara crawled up the bed and dropped half on top of her, sighing in contentment. She finally let the exhaustion take over as she wrapped her arms around Katrina and held her close. The girl wordlessly snuggled close to her, letting out a relaxed sigh as her eyes drifted closed and her breathing evened out.


	10. Chapter 9

For the first time in her entire Dark-Huntress life, Scara woke peacefully, without remembering any dreams at all. D'Vrek must have been desperate for something to supplement the pain he'd taken from her. Fumbling for her jacket, which was still somewhere on the bed, she found her phone and checked the time. To her utter shock, she discovered that she'd slept for almost eight hours, longer than she'd ever slept by at least half. Even when she'd been relaxed and the nightmare's hadn't been bad, she'd still only slept five and a half.  
Katrina stirred, quietly groaning at the loss of warmth at her back.  
Scara's gaze found the girl, her attuned eyes seeing perfectly even in the total darkness. An odd ache started in her chest as she watched Katrina roll over, sleepily reaching for her. She moved closer, pulling the girl to her chest with an almost mournful expression.  
Whatever it was that Katrina had, it'd completely eaten away her defenses and nestled in to the place her soul had once resided. She didn't want to let the girl go, but she knew that in less than five days, their time together would be over and there was nothing she could do to change that.  
And this feeling... the only time she'd ever felt it was for a little boy, but this was just enough different that she didn't dare try to identify it; if she did, she knew it would eventually kill her.  
The still sleeping girl let out a sigh and a small smile drew across her face as she snuggled closer again. It felt like her heart was breaking at the sight of Katrina so content. How could the girl be so happy when she was in so much pain?  
Her phone rang then and she quickly smothered it on her jacket to keep from waking Katrina. Carefully, she extricated herself from the girl and padded naked into the living room, where she quietly closed the door as she answered the phone.  
"Sebak," she said, keeping her voice down.  
"Are you alright?" Taylor blurted. "Is Katrina still alive? You didn't kill her yet, did you?" Scara snorted. Like she could kill Katrina... Maybe when they first met, but not now.  
"She's alive," the Dark-Huntress replied, gently cracking open the door to confirm the fact. "...Not sure she would agree, though."  
"Tsk! Just what did you do to my poor little Trina?" Taylor scolded like a mother, or grandmother. Now _that_ was an interesting thought...  
"You don't want to know," Scara said, closing the door again and going into the kitchen. Was there anything ready-made still in the fridge?  
"You'd better not have hurt her," Taylor warned superfluously.  
"Yeah, whatever," she scoffed, reaching for a beer. "Like you could do anything to me... You already killed me once; next time... What am I saying? There won't _be_ a next time..."  
"Hehh, fuck you," he said sardonically.  
"Not a chance," she returned, amused. "You're not my type, and I've already had my fill." Immediately she froze, mentally slamming her forehead against the wall. "Shit..." Too late; Taylor was already squealing on the other end of the line.  
"OH MY GOD!" he bleated like a fangirl. "I knew it! I just _knew_ you two... Gods! I'm so happy for you! Now, when's the first date? And I mean like a proper date, not this hanging out shit..."  
"TAYLOR," she snapped, partly annoyed, but still on too much of a high from the afterglow to really be annoyed. "Would you shut up? There will be no date; it was a one-time deal. I just had to get it out of my system before I exploded. And even if it weren't-which it is, but for the sake of argument, let's say it wasn't-it wouldn't matter; in less than five days, she'll either end the world, or go off somewhere to learn how to keep her powers under control."  
"Heh. You're so full of bullshit," Taylor snickered. "That was totally defensive; you like her, and you're just a pansy who can't admit it."  
"I do not like her," Scara scoffed, rolling her eyes. "She's more annoying than you are."  
"Oh, so you admit you like me."  
"That's not what I said! What, are you some kind of marriage counselor or something now?"  
"Well, obviously that's what you need, honey," he said. "And if Ash hadn't ordered me to stay away, I'd be over there in a heartbeat."  
"Hello? End-of-the-world shit going on? Or did you miss the memo?" She huffed a sigh. "Seriously, focus on the job, and when this over, feel free to taunt me to your heart's content. At the risk of your life, of course."  
Katrina had woken at the sound of the phone ringing; she shook her head to clear the fog before getting up and throwing her clothes from last night back on. She had just finished buckling her belt when she had heard Scara say over the phone that it had only been a one time thing. Fury boiled in her veins.  
So she was just a one night stand? A way to vent her frustration? She actually bit her tongue to keep from growling as she looked around the room and stopped at the window. Glancing to the door and making up her mind, she grabbed the jacket she was originally gonna use as a cover to sleep on the couch, put her arms in the sleeves and zipped it up to her collar. Then she stepped up to the door and quietly locked the bedroom door before quickly, but silently, making her way to the window. She ducked underneath the curtain and opened the window, climbed out and then shut it behind her.  
She was not gonna play this game! She'd seen Demetrius suffer through it enough to know better. Glancing down at the good five or six feet to the ground, she figured she could make it easy; she took a deep breath, let it out, and jumped.  
As she thought, she landed perfectly fine on her feet and took off running. Screw them! Screw Scara! She could take care of herself! She was long gone before anyone could even notice.

"Tsk! Just you wait and see, Se," Taylor chirped. "I'll get you to admit it."  
"Yeah, good luck with that," she scoffed. "Now let me get dressed, before some demon or something breaks into my apartment while I'm naked in the kitchen."  
"Ooh, I'll bet that's a sight," he snickered. Rolling her eyes, she ended the call and went over to the bedroom to get her clothes, only to find the door locked. After a moment's confusion, she realized what must have happened; Katrina had probably heard some part of the conversation and, knowing her luck, had taken it wrong somehow. She was probably fuming in there.  
"Katrina? Open the door," she called, pounding on it. "Katrina. Open the damn door, now!" When the girl didn't respond, she cursed and stepped back, kicking it open. Then she cursed again, this time in ancient Egyptian; Katrina was gone. Throwing on a pair of fitted jeans and a tank-top, she shoved her feet into a pair of running shoes and snatched her jacket before jumping out the open window, the only place the girl could've gone. She hit the ground and rolled to absorb the shock, coming up at a run as she extended her senses to the best of her ability. Pulling out her phone, she clicked on Acheron's number.  
"She's gone," Scara blurted the moment she heard him start to speak. "She bolted, climbed out my window while I was in the other room." Acheron cursed.  
"What the hell happened, Sebak?" he growled. She clenched her jaw tight as she stopped at an intersection and looked around.  
"I made a stupid mistake," she replied.  
"Fucking... Find her," he ordered sternly. "NOW."  
"The hell you think I'm doing?" she snapped. "I don't have a fucking clue where she went or how long she's been gone."  
"Call Taylor and have him put the word out in the Squire network," he said. "I'll get the Dark-Hunters in your area to keep an eye out."  
"Not gonna work for long," she pointed out, checking her watch. "We've got an hour and a half, two tops, till sunrise."  
"Then you've got two hours to find her, don't you?" The line clicked dead and she spat another Egyptian curse as she locked the phone and shoved it in her pocket.  
"Where the hell are you, Katrina?"

 _The last place anyone will think to look_ , was the thought that crossed Katrina's mind as she glanced out the window of the plane, having only popped by her house long enough to pack some spare clothes and cash. Thankfully Demetrius hadn't been there, he was more stubborn than most, so there'd have been no getting past him with the explanation of why she was leaving. The sun was just starting to peek the horizon as well, so she knew Scara or any of the other Dark-Hunters wouldn't be able to find her and by the time they could again, she'd already be hidden away. In fact, she'd specifically choose the place she was heading to avoid destroying any cities if some kind of power flare or whatever happened the day of her birthday; she still remembered how her dad told her stories about when she was born, the hurricane striking the city just as she took her first breath and screamed. He used to call her his little miracle; when people had been dying or losing their loved ones and everything they had, he had gained a treasure that was only his, his precious little girl. She closed her eyes as she held his dog tags that hung around her neck and silently prayed that he was watching over her now.

"I'm heading home," Talon yawned. "Sunshine's got a gallery show or something this afternoon, and I need some sleep."  
"Thanks for your help, Talon," Scara said, a touch hopelessly. The Celt nodded and then put his hand on her shoulder.  
"Hey, don't worry," he assured. "I'm sure she's fine." Was she really that obviously worried? Damn.  
"Yeah, probably," she noted, keeping her voice even. He patted her shoulder comfortingly as he left. Kyrian and Julian trotted up just in time to exchange farewells with their friend, and Samia followed a moment later.  
"No sign of her," Kyrian reported grimly.  
"Same here," Samia concurred. "I asked Dev if his family could help keep an eye out during the day, but frankly, I don't even think she's in the city." Scara winced at the suggestion as Julian nodded in agreement.  
"That's actually the news I brought," he said. "One of the Squires working airport security just called in a few minutes ago; she saw a woman matching your girl's description boarding a flight about an hour ago. She would have stopped her or called it in sooner, but she didn't even get the memo until it was too late."  
"Shit," Scara cursed. Samia made a face and even Kyrian flinched.  
"Not good," he rumbled. "Did Ash say anything?"  
"Not a damn thing," Julian sighed, exasperated. "I tried calling him, but the line was busy; he's probably feeling like Grand Central Station right now..."  
"Did the Squire catch which flight?" Scara asked. He shook his head.  
"She only recalled it as an afterthought, and she was on the lookout for other trouble, so she didn't notice."  
"Damn it... She could be anywhere by now," she growled.  
"Relax; we'll find her," Samia promised. "There's not a city in the world that isn't patrolled by at least one Dark-Hunter and a handful of Squires; word's out, and everyone'll be keeping an eye out for her. Now you need to get inside before you char... The rest of us have our souls, so we can go out in daylight, but you..." She glanced significantly at the wisps of steam curling off Scara's hands. The sun wasn't in sight, but it was obviously above the horizon, and she was still a ways from home. Reluctantly, she nodded and let the former Dark-Huntress lead her to a car that would take her to her apartment.

Katrina stretched her arms over her head as she walked off the flight. She had pulled her hood over her hair and put on a pair of sun glasses as soon as they landed, not wanting to be spotted. Since she hated her mother and they knew this, they'd never think to look here. She looked up to the towering mountains and took a breath of the clearer air. She may not like her mother one bit, but she loved the heritage she got.  
Shouldering her bag, she started out to one of the taxis that would take her to where she'd be staying for a time. She'd move around a few times every so often to throw off their trail; that would hide her from them for a very long time.  
Katrina smiled when she reached her destination, the taxi having stopped quite a ways back, she had to walk up the steep side of the mountain, but closer to the top, surrounded by fog, was a large mansion that had belonged to a distant relative of her mom's who had stayed in Scotland but died about two years ago. It was perfect.

It was only midday, and Scara was still awake, when she had a sudden epiphany.  
Katrina was smart, incredibly so, and she knew what could happen if her powers exploded or whatever in the middle of a city. She also no doubt knew that any random passerby could be a potential witness of her location, so she'd go to someplace in the middle of nowhere, near a small town, or a tiny village, a place where she could hide away and still be able to get supplies. It'd have to be somewhere she felt safe, too, somewhere she didn't expect them to look.  
So where was she least likely to be, besides in the middle of a big city?  
Scara sat down hard and then fumbled for her phone, calling Acheron. She growled in annoyance when he didn't answer, but thankfully, when she dialed again, he picked up on the first ring.  
"What's up?" He sounded tired, but she only felt a little bad; her mind was moving too quickly for her to care right now.  
"Who does Katrina hate the most in the world?" She could almost literally see him in her mind's eyes raise a brow at her question.  
"What does this have to do with finding her?"  
When she explained her reasoning, Acheron remained quiet for so long she almost thought he'd hung up.  
"Ash?"  
"...I'll look into it," he said. "Meanwhile, don't get into any trouble." She bit her lip to keep from arguing with her boss.  
"Fine," she sighed, annoyed.  
"Scara," he said gently. "Get some sleep. Whatever mistake you made, you're gonna need all your strength to get right with her if and when we find her." She suspected he already knew what mistake she'd made, but she said nothing about it, only promising to at least try.  
When she hung up, she flopped back on the bed, hair fanning out around her like a veil, and put her arm over her eyes.  
 _Please, just let her be safe..._

Ash, unfortunately, had to be the one to tell the missing girl's brother that she'd disappeared. The Greek Scot was definitely royally pissed, but he visible calmed enough to tell the Dark-Hunter leader what he needed to know. "That's an easy one. Her mother. Ever since Katrina's father died in war three years ago, their barely existent relationship fell apart. Her mother won't accept who Katrina is and after putting up with her for so long, Katrina finally snapped; told her to fuck off and stay out of her life."  
"Where does her mother live?" Ash asked, pulling out his phone and readying to dial whoever he might know that was closest.  
"Why?"  
"Because it's possible she's going to the one place in the world she hates the most and she doesn't expect anyone to look there," he said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the irritation out of his voice. "Now, please, answer the damn question."  
"She lives right here in New Orleans," Demetrius frowned. After a slight pause, he hesitantly added, "Though she's originally from Scotland, Isle of Barra, if I'm not mistaken."

"Get some sleep, he says; you'll need your rest, he says..." Scara tossed another pebble across the road, an impressive feat, considering she was sitting on her porch, a good five yards from her side of the street. She hadn't been able to do more than doze since she got off the phone with Acheron-the nightmares were too strong even for D'Vrek to do much good-so the moment the sun had gone down far enough that she wouldn't be sitting in direct sunlight, she'd gone outside, anxious to get going. Where, she didn't know. Yet.  
"Damn it, Ash!" she growled, pitching a small handful of pebbles at the driveway. "Hurry up and fucking call me already!" At that moment, her phone rang and she snatched it up without even looking at the caller ID. "Tell me you found her!"  
"Uh, no...?" Taylor said slowly. "I was just calling to check on you, make sure you didn't go and commit suicide by sunburn or anything." Scara let out an exasperated sigh.  
"Yes, I'm fine," she muttered.  
"Honey, you don't sound even _close_ to fine," he tsked. "You sound heartbroken... You know she wasn't trying to hurt you, right?"  
"Oh really? Because that's certainly how it looks to me," she returned, a bit more sharply than she'd intended. "You must see something I don't."  
"Of course I do!" he chided, not seeming to mind her tone at all. "I see a woman who's very much in love and refuses to admit it because the last woman she loved died, and she thinks it's her fault, so she doesn't want to ever fall in love again. Well, sweetheart, too fucking bad; news flash, you're in love. And when-not _if_ , _WHEN_ -we find her again, you had better tell her the truth, or, kill me if you like, but I'm saying it anyway... Or you're going to lose her, just like you lost Tiff." Scara almost dropped her phone. As it was, her hands trembled visibly.  
"...I don't love her," she insisted. "How could I? We've known each other all of, what, three days? I'm just pissed because I was supposed to be guarding her, and instead, I fucked her." Taylor gave a resigned sigh.  
"Whatever," he gave in. "If that's what you want to believe, knock yourself out; I'm not coming to the pity party. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a friend in trouble, and I'm going to find her."

By sundown, Scara was pacing the driveway. When her phone rang, she almost dropped it yanking it out of her pocket, but thankfully only fumbled a moment before answering, this time checking the caller ID to be sure it was Acheron.  
"Did you find her?" she asked, almost desperately.  
"Maybe," he answered. "I asked Demetrius about who she might hate the most, but her mother lives here in New Orleans."  
"Then we're right back to where we started," she said, deflating.  
"Not quite," he countered. "Her mother originally lived in Scotland. I made a couple of calls, and her mother's family still owns property on the Barra, an island in the Outer Hebrides. The nearest Dark-Hunter is headed out from Portree and should be there in an hour or two."  
"Book me a flight up there," she said immediately, darting into the house to grab her jacket, shoes and keys.  
"What? No; you'd be racing sunrise even if you left right this minute. Just be patient; Cathrine will find her and bring her on the first flight out here. I'd rather have the sun follow her here than risk you losing to it there."  
"I don't give a flying fuck what you'd rather," Scara retorted, slamming the door shut behind her and jumping into her car. "I'm on my way to the airport; book me a ticket in advance, or I'll buy one when I get there. I'll buy the whole fucking plane if I have to!" Acheron sighed, clearly nearing the end of his patience.  
"Scara..."  
"Don't 'Scara' me!" she snapped, whipping into traffic. "Are you going to help me or fight me, because I'm happy with either!" Obviously trying not to snap back, he stayed silent for a moment, and she eased up a bit. "Look, Ash, you should understand me; I've lost everyone that ever meant anything to me, and Katrina isn't just a job anymore. I need to get her back here, for both our sake's; if she goes ballistic come her twenty-fifth, she'll never forgive herself for hurting anyone." She almost held her breath as she swerved around a slow car, just barely avoiding oncoming traffic.  
"...I'll have you on the first flight to London," he said finally. "That's the best I can do on such short notice. Just promise me, as soon as you land, get to a hotel and lay low until the sun sets. I'll tell Cathrine just to observe until you can get up there." Scara breathed a sigh of relief.  
"I promise; thanks, Ash."  
"Don't get yourself killed, Behdeti," he said. "You don't have your soul yet."  
Only after the line clicked and she'd tossed the phone into the passenger seat did Scara register what he'd said... _YET._


	11. Chapter 10

The flight attendants and the other passengers alike gave Scara a wide berth getting off the plane. She didn't care; as soon as she was clear of the unloading ramp, her long strides carried her quickly out of the terminal, to where a big black van waited in the pick-up zone, a slender young man in slacks and a sweater vest beside it with a sign proclaiming her name.  
She flinched as a soft ray of sunlight caught her on the way over, and the young man quickly opened the back door for her; she all but lunged into the vehicle to get out of the sun. Thankfully, the windows were painted over with black paint, and a heavy curtain hung between the back and the cab. She settled herself in the seat as the engine turned over and the van pulled out.  
"Ash book a room at a hotel nearby for you," a young British man's voice floated back to her. She assumed it was the same boy who'd been holding the sign. "There's an underground garage where we'll let you out that has a lift to the lobby, so you should be safe getting to your room. I'll go with you and check to be sure none of the maids left the curtains open." She grunted in reply, too tired to work up a suitable response; it'd been almost thirty hours since she'd gotten any sleep, and unlike some Dark-Hunters who rarely slept, or could go weeks on end with only a couple hours of sleep throughout, she actually slept regularly. Fitfully, but regularly.  
The ride was uneventful and thankfully short, as was the trip up to her room. The moment the young man left, she kicked off her shoes and collapsed on the bed, not bothering to undress.

Katrina was dreaming. An odd one to say the least; she couldn't see or feel anything, but could hear a masculine voice speaking to her. Only it wasn't the storm god, it was much more... demonic. Evil. And seemed to be egging her current states of anger on even though she tried not to listen. Slowly, against her will, the anger grew and grew, and turned into something ugly.  
That anger turned to a burning hatred, which slowly turned towards vengeance.  
She woke up just about sunset with a jerk, panting heavily for a moment before shaking it off. Getting up and looking out the window, she cursed and realized that the sun was turning the entire countryside a dark orange; it was going to be night soon. If she really planned to avoid being found, she needed to move. It's not like they could find her exact location, but she also didn't want anyone nearby so no one got hurt.  
Turning from the window, she quickly dressed and packed up what she had taken out of her bag. In her hurry, she almost missed a foreign object that she had never packed in the bag. It was a long, thin, two-handed blade with a cross safeguard and a handle wrapped with black and white leather. Around the sheath was a red belt that was used to hold the sheath to someone's hip and attached to the belt was a note.

 _You have more need of it than me._  
 _But please send it back when you're done._  
 _~H._

Nightmares chased the Dark-Huntress in and out of sleep all day long, until she glanced at her phone and realized it was nearly sunset. She jumped to her feet and paused while the dizziness faded, then grabbed her shoes and began tugging them on.  
Someone knocked on the door as she did so, and she stumbled over to open it, still wedging her way into the second shoe. The young man from early that morning was there, and frowned curiously at her rumpled attire.  
"Did you perhaps sleep in your clothes?" he asked.  
"Buzz off," she scowled at him, shoving locks of bed-head curls out of her face. "Is the car ready?" She pushed past him and headed back the way they'd come that morning.  
"Ah, yes, ma'am," he said, scurrying to catch up. "Ash has you on the next flight to Scotland, where you will need to switch flights to a smaller airline that will take you to Barra."  
"How long?" she asked, skipping the elevator in favour of the stairs.  
"Pardon?"  
"How long?" she barked, irritated. "Till I land in Barra?"  
"Oh... A few hours, I presume," he answered. She scowled as she slammed through the door into the garage.  
"You'd better not screw with me on this, Fates," she warned under her breath, climbing into the back of the van. "I will personally find a way to Olympus and kick your asses bloody."

Katrina let out a yawn and stretched her arms over her head, sleepy even after a full day of sleep. She had no idea why. On a slightly worse note, she hadn't heard a thing from Susanoo at all since she left New Orleans, which she found strange but couldn't dwell on as she checked her ticket to make sure she was getting on the right plane to head back to the mainland. She had left Barra about an hour after getting up and had jumped another to a smaller airport outside London, and was heading to the next spot where they were less people and few chances of being found.  
Unfortunately, she'd have to buy a winter jacket once she got there, but at least she wouldn't have to worry about exploding on everyone. She snuggled into her seat as her plane started for the take off down the runway. She leaned her head against the glass and closed her eyes as she felt the plane move.  
Look out Alaska, here comes the calm before the storm.

Cathrine met Scara on the tarmac of the airport in Barra, her grim expression saying enough before they got close enough to speak.  
"She's gone?" Scara growled, annoyed.  
"I lost 'er 'ere in the airport an hour-thirty ago," the Irishwoman answered through gritted teeth. "She must've known..."  
"No," Scara shook her head. "She's just keeping on the move in case we do catch up; she'd have left regardless."  
"Still, it galls me to 'ave been so close," Cathrine huffed. Now it was clear her anger was directed at Scara. The Egyptian hardly cared; she curled a lip at the much shorter woman.  
"Hmph. You remind me of Artemis like that... little twit of a woman with a childish temper..." Leaving Cathrine to turn as red as her hair, Scara called Acheron, getting away from the other Huntress quickly before their powers started draining. He answered on the first ring, as usual. "She's already gone."  
"...Well?" he prompted after a moment. "So far, you're the only one who seems to know where she'll go." A touch of warmth blossomed in her chest at the praise, but she pushed it aside to focus on the task at hand.  
"Next best guess would be somewhere far North," she said. "Like, Greenland-North, or upper Russia. Possibly Alaska, even."  
"Great," he sighed. "I'll make some calls; where to next?"  
"I'll take..." She paused a moment to think. Where would Katrina go? Greenland seemed a little too close to Barra. Russia was a viable choice, but this late in the year, it'd be hell for anyone who didn't live there. That left... "Alaska. Think Zarek would mind joining the search?"  
"...I'll ask Astrid; _she_ can present the idea to him..."

Katrina stretched her arms over her head as she came out of the airport. Surprisingly, the cold wasn't too bad. Even though she felt like a walking heater, and probably would even without the winter coat, she had to keep up appearances and zipped up the fluffy coat she'd gotten in the terminal. Her pulled her hair up into a high ponytail again as she walked into town and then stuffed her sunglasses in her duffle bag, thinking she wouldn't need them. At least, not for a disguise; what idiot Hunter, much less Daimon, would want to hunt in Alaska?

Scara's phone rang while she waited impatiently for the boarding of her flight to start. She checked it, but didn't recognize the number.  
"Sebak," she answered.  
"Scara, this is Zarek," a deep masculine voice introduced. Just by the sound of it, she knew he was good-looking, a fact she registered automatically; not unusual for Dark-Hunters.  
"I'm just about to board; is something wrong?" she asked, careful to keep her anxiety out of her voice.  
"No, actually, it's right, for once," he snorted. "One of my contacts in town just called; he saw Katrina disembark from a flight a little under half an hour ago. I'm on my way into town to check up on his story."  
"Damn... I'll be there as soon as I can," she promised. "Let's not make the same mistake twice; if you catch up to her, do whatever you can to stall her. Even if it's only for a few minutes; every second brings me that much closer to catching up."  
"Yeah, sure; whatever. But I warn you now, if you don't do something about her, then in two days, I'll kill her myself, if only for the fun of it."

Katrina got the feeling she was being watched. Glancing back, she didn't see anyone, but she knew better to dismiss it. After walking several more steps, she managed to catch the smallest glimpse of someone following her. A large, dangerous-looking man that she didn't doubt was attractive, but right now wasn't the time to ogle random men.  
Quickening her pace slightly, she stuffed her hands into her pockets and looked around to appear relaxed, but once she made it around a corner of one of the buildings on the edge of town, she sprinted into a dead run.  
Zarek sensed the moment she bolted, and wanted to curse. Ash had been right; she was a flight-risk.  
Fortunately, he knew this town like the back of his hand, and he slipped through a shortcut, coming out just ahead of her. So close, in fact, that she collided with him.  
"Obviously you know what I am, so I'll cut to the chase," he rumbled. "You're staying with me until Sebak arrives, then you can do whatever the hell you want in _her_ custody."  
Katrina growled as she got up from where she fell flat on her ass. "Like fucking hell I am!" She could feel that her bag was a little heavier than before but paid it no mind at the moment. Her eyes narrowed into a hard glare and parts of her irises turned red.  
Now that was odd, Ash had told him her eyes might gain a bit of molten gold, not red. And it wasn't a soft red either... bloody red fit the description better.  
Scowling, he pulled out his phone while she muttered something, and then snatched her wrist to keep her from bolting again.  
"Ash, I've got her, but something's off," he reported. "They're red, not gold."  
"Oh shit..." Instantly, Acheron was there. "Katrina, you need to calm down, now."  
Her jaw clenched enough that it was a surprise it didn't snap. The growling that started in her throat was less than human. **"What part of 'Leave me the hell alone' can't you fuckers understand?"**  
"...I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that's bad," Zarek scowled. Acheron grimaced.  
"Very." He flashed them all out to the snow-covered wilderness where no civilians would be caught in the potential crossfire, but for some reason, moving Katrina took more out of him than he expected, and she didn't come quite as far out as he intended; he could just see her some two or three hundred yards away in the direction of the town. He stumbled and Zarek immediately caught him.  
" _That_ I know is bad," he said grimly. "The hell's wrong with you, Ash?"  
"Her," he answered, breath a little heavier for his exertion. "I'm sending you back to Astrid; take her and the kids and get as far away as you can... evacuate the town, if you can."  
"Like hell I'm leaving you," the former Dark-Hunter growled. "Not when you're like this!" Acheron would argue, but he didn't have the time or the energy to.  
"Call Scara," he said. "Warn her; I'm bringing her here the hard way and I might be out of commission for a minute or two..." Scara answered the phone with a growl of annoyance.  
"The flight was delayed. It'll be another t-"  
"Doesn't matter," Zarek cut in. "Ash is going to bring you here himself; I'll explain when you get here."  
"Uh, how?" she asked. "I just said, the flight's de-" Abruptly she was standing on a snowfield in front of Ash and a tall, dark man that she assumed was Zarek. Simultaneously, her boss collapsed and she flinched, hissing and curling down on herself to avoid the fading light of the sun.  
"Fucking...!"  
"Here," Zarek held out his coat, a thick leather thing that was heavier than it looked. Thankfully, it blocked the light of the sun enough that her skin only prickled at its nearness, rather than burning at its contact.  
"The hell happened to Ash?" she asked, frowning with all the irritation of the past two days. The instant Zarek finished explaining, Scara took off, a strange ache rising in her chest that she recognized as panic. A few moments later, she pulled to a stop, less than a yard from the familiar form of her charge. The unhinged look of anxious confusion on Katrina's face burned Scara to her nonexistent soul. Without a second thought, she dropped the coat, reached out, and without seeming to care that her skin steamed and burned, snatched the girl to her chest.  
"Thank the gods you're still alive," she breathed, her relief overcoming her usual coarse defensiveness. "Why the hell'd you run off like that, bitch? I about died of worry!"  
Katrina immediately froze up, not expecting contact at all. She instinctively started struggling to get out of her grasp and Scara immediately let go, realizing the girl probably hated her. Pain was searing her body, the heavy breeze whisking away thick curls of steam from her skin, but she paid it no mind, subconsciously wincing but otherwise showing no signs of discomfort.  
"You... don't want me around, do you?" she asked, voice hoarse with a different pain entirely.  
Katrina's eyes were entirely blue again, but she knew there was a risk of raging like a volcano eruption because of what she suspected to be the Mazuko coming back and tearing down her mind to wreck havoc. She was going to hate herself for doing this, but there was no other choice. For everyone's sake. Especially Scara.  
Taking in a shaky breath and closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the reaction, she screamed, "Just stay away from me!"  
Scara's breath caught behind a lump in her throat. She stepped back, an inner pain that was ten times worse than the burning of her skin tearing through her. The last time she'd felt something of this magnitude, she'd been staring into the dead eyes of her son.  
Her first instinct was to ignore the girl's cry and gather her in her arms, but she clenched her fists in an effort to stay put, knowing Katrina would only push her away. Her second desire was to knock the girl upside the head and remind her that for the next twenty-some-odd hours, Scara was still her guardian. But that wouldn't be welcomed either, even if she could get up the emotional strength for something like that.  
Images of Tiff and the time they spent together flashed through her mind and she blinked back tears, swallowing hard. Stepping back again, she nodded. She should have known such a thing as a happy ending was well beyond anything she would ever get; she'd been lucky enough to have even a semblance of happiness for a few hundred years.  
"I understand," she whispered, and turned toward the last light of day, no longer hiding from it. It wouldn't kill her, unfortunately, but it was already hurting like hell, which brought to mind Taylor. The little ass, shooting her in the head... She wondered if he would freak when he saw her in a Squire hospital. Katrina obviously wouldn't care. Would Ash? She'd never been able to get a read on her boss, and had no clue how he'd react to the fact that she'd willingly exposed herself to daylight. Hopefully, he'd get pissed off and relocate her to some remote island in the middle of nowhere to protect the meager natives; anywhere that wasn't New Orleans, where the memories of Katrina would hurt even more than the memories of Tiff in Tallahassee.  
Katrina opened her eyes even though half of her didn't want to and bit back a curse. If Scara died because of her, she'd never forgive herself. Picking up the heavy coat and throwing it on Scara she literally pushed her as if to face-plant her into the snow, but she managed to get the godly powers to cooperate long enough that they teleported Scara over to Ash and the other man who had caught her earlier. Ash was thankfully getting up now and actually caught Scara as she reappeared right in front of them.  
 _Take care of her._ Katrina's voice whispered in his mind before turning on her heel and running off back into town. Her bag hadn't teleported with her and there was something in there she just somehow knew she needed.  
"The hell...?" Zarek scowled, startled. Ash just stood there for a moment, surprised. By the time he'd recovered, Scara had as well, and she jerked away from him, choking back her sobs and keeping her face away from him so he wouldn't see the tears that had broken free of her restraints to flow unbidden down her cheeks.  
"Damn it, Katrina..." she growled. Zarek did a double-take and snatched her chin, turning her to meet his gaze before she could stop him.  
"Holy..." he breathed. "Sebak, your eyes are red..." She slapped his hand away.  
"No shit, Sherlock," she snarled defensively. "It's called crying."  
"No, I mean _RED_ ," he insisted. "Like, drying-blood red. Like, a dark albino red." She froze, realizing then that her powers had been draining. She'd automatically assumed it was from being around another Dark-Hunter, but now recalled that Zarek had his soul back and was no longer a Dark-Hunter, therefore couldn't drain her powers. Ash never had, being her boss, which left one alternative.  
This was the weakness that turned her mortal again. It had to be; there was no other option. Having slept with Katrina, after falling in love, and then being rejected... She'd never had that happen before, but now she knew; this was the thing that made her human again: rejection from love.  
"Fuck..."

Katrina managed to find the bag. Thankfully no one has taken it and unzipped it and started digging around inside for whatever it was she was looking for. She hand curled around a sheath when a male voice chuckled behind her that caused her to freeze.  
"Found you, little hurricane."

Acheron cursed as he sensed the sudden appearance of a high-powered being he'd never come in contact with before.  
"Stay here," he ordered Scara. "I sense trouble, and you're no good to anyone with your powers drained."  
"But...!"  
"STAY HERE!" he bellowed, eyes flashing behind the sunglasses. She closed her mouth, scowling defiantly at him, though a tremor of fear ran through her. Even Zarek winced slightly. "Zarek..."  
"Watch her," the former Dark-Hunter supplied, nodding. "Yeah, I got it." Acheron nodded and vanished. Scara turned a fierce glare on Zarek, who raised his hands. "Never said I'd stop you." A light smirk tugged at Scara's lips, despite the situation; she could get to like this guy...  
"Good," she said. "I'd hate to have to throw you on your ass." With that, she took off in the direction Katrina had gone, Zarek on her heels.  
Unfortunately, by the time even Acheron got there, he barely made it in time to see Katrina, bound and gagged, thrown over the shoulder of a powerful being.  
He appeared human enough, gave the Dark-Hunter leader a run for his money in height, and had long, wild white hair and tan skin with deep blue markings all over his body, a fact emphasised as the guy was wearing nothing more than a pair of pants. The man turned to look over his shoulder at him and smirked. His eyes were blood, demonic red. Fangs extended clearly from his upper jaw and he had claws on both hands and feet.  
 **"Thanks for the parting gift, kid."** Katrina still struggled over the man's shoulder even as he turned back around and walked, disappearing in a column of flames.  
At Ash's feet was the blade Kayrina had started to pull out of her bag, just enough for the black and white leather handle to stick out.  
"Shit..." he growled, working his jaw in anger.  
"KATRINA!" Scara shrieked. She'd just gotten a view of someone extremely tall with white hair carrying the girl over his shoulder before both vanished. Acheron whirled as she pulled to a stop near him.  
"Damn it, Sebak, I said stay!" he snapped. Terrified for Katrina and furious at her own impotence, she came right back at him, forgetting for a moment that he could blast her into a million pieces.  
"And I'm supposed to do nothing while you let him take Katrina?" she spat. "I'd rather be a Shade!" He winced, recalling how the first Dark-Hunter Shade came into being, but she didn't even notice; her attention had fallen on the the blade. Heart aching, she crouched and tentatively reached out to brush her fingers across the handle.  
"The hell'd it take her?" Zarek scowled, waving a hand through the place they'd vanished.  
"Gods know," Acheron said, lips curling in a snarl. "I'd follow, but who knows what I'd be walking into."  
"Probably worse than following a Daimon down a bolt-hole," Zarek agreed. "Now what?"  
"...I need to go see Artemis about something," Acheron said reluctantly. "Get Scara somewhere safe until her powers return; I'll be back in a couple of hours or so."  
"Hah! What do I tell Tori if she calls?" Zarek scoffed. "Not a chance, man; she hates the bitch as much as anyone, and I don't want to be the one she takes it out in when she finds out you're with her."  
"I'll tell her myself," Acheron assured. "Just make sure Sebak doesn't do anything _stupid_..." The last phrase was directed more toward Scara than Zarek, the Dark-Huntress still crouched beside Katrina's bag.  
"Like figuring out how to follow the Mazuko?" she growled at him, glaring. "He can't stop me, Ash, and you know it. He can try all he wants, but short of killing me, nothing, _nothing_ will stop me from trying to get her back."  
"Good," he said, surprising her. "Just postpone it till I get back; I'm going to call in some favours..."


	12. Chapter 11

All Katrina could remember was a hellish place and the large bed where the beast of a humanoid-the Mazuko, presumably-dumped her flat on her back. Then she somehow blacked out.  
A few hours later, she groaned as she came to, head throbbing slightly in time with her heartbeat. She slowly opened her eyes to stare at the red velvet canopy of the giant four poster bed she laid in. Slowly sitting up, she looked down to her body to see that she wasn't wearing her long sleeved shirt and jeans anymore, but a long, elegant sleeping gown. Black in color and with a small sash tied around her waist.  
"What the...?" She ran her hand over the material; it was silky to the touch, but the inside that was pressed to her body had a more fuzzy, warm material. She reached up and felt her hair, which been pulled into a fishtail braid. Now this was weird... Did he...? Did the Mazuko really-  
 **"I do have a name you know."**  
Her head snapped up to see him leaning against the double doors, as if he had just slipped through them like a ghost or shadow. Her eyes widened slightly in fright.  
The Mazuko simply chuckled at her and stepped forward silently until he stood next to her. Placing a clawed under her chin, he tilted her head up to meet his dark gaze. **"While I normally take pleasure in terrifying everyone, you have no reason to fear me. I have no intention to harm you."**

While Scara paced anxiously in Zarek's living room, the former Dark-Hunter explained everything to his wife, who was currently nursing a tiny child.  
"Ash is calling in favours?" Astrid winced. "The world really is ending."  
"I shudder to think who owes him," her husband agreed, gently cupping the baby's head and laying a soft kiss on his brow.  
"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, shifting the child carefully from one breast to the other.  
"Tame the animal in my living room," he sighed, glancing through the door into said room. "She's scaring the kids."  
"I'll see what I can do," Astrid said, prodding the baby away from her chest and easing him into Zarek's arms before pulling her shirt up and transferring the burping cloth to his shoulder. Then she kissed his cheek and went to try settling Scara.

Meanwhile, Acheron had made his request to Artemis. She pretended to think about it for a moment, but they both knew her answer would be yes.  
"Fine," she said finally, brushing red curls back from her face. "Kneel." Wincing at what he knew would come next, Acheron obeyed and let her make his shirt disappear. He almost cried out at the first lash of pain across his back, but managed to bite it back in time.  
She took her price from his skin, and when she was sated, a small, ornate box appeared in front of him.  
Scara's soul.  
No, Behdeti's soul.  
He gently picked up the box, as though it would shatter at a mere touch, and destroy the medallion within, forever locking the Dark-Huntress in servitude. Without healing himself, which would invalidate the terms of agreement and return the soul to Artemis, he replaced his shirt and jacket, and left to call in the favours he'd need for what was coming next.

Katrina gulped silently as she sat across from Raizen, the Mazuko. He had lead-or rather, carried like a bride on her wedding day-her from the bedroom out to a black iron balcony and set her on the bench seat that sat right before the edge. He still had yet to tell her why he didn't wish to harm her, but she bit back the urge to demand he'd tell her. He was obviously much older than he looked and could still very easily change his mind and kill her without a second thought.  
If she had to be honest with herself, though, he was fairly attractive; well-built and tall, obviously fairly strong. His white hair fell to his waist in a wild, sexy mess, and his demonic red eyes seemed to see right through her.  
Being bisexual made this interesting for her.  
Raizen still hadn't said a thing to her when he carried her back to the bedroom after a few hours. He'd set her on her feet just inside the door and turned to leave when she finally spoke up.  
"What do you want from me?" She bit her lip as the words hung in the air for a moment. When he turned back around to face her, she flinched as if bracing for a hit. So it was shocking when he gently cupped her cheek in one hand and tilting her face up before leaning down enough to bring his face a few inches from hers. She sucked in a quiet breath.  
After a few long moments that seemed to stretch on for eternity, he spoke. **"There's something I need you to do for me."** He paused before continuing. **"I want you to carry on my line, directly."**  
Her blue eyes widened in shock and she couldn't speak. He left her alone after that and she pretty much just stared at the closed doors for a little while. Then she moved over to the bed and climbed in, laying on her side and silently stared at the wall, unable to believe what she'd gotten caught up, much less understand how she'd gotten here in the first place.  
Her thoughts still in a daze, she drifted off to sleep.  
Raizen waited an hour after she fell asleep before silently entering the room. Looking down at her small form, he couldn't help but admire the beauty of his long time descendant. Smooth tan skin, vibrant dark hair (and he had to admit he liked the dyed streaks), and blue eyes that changed with her mood like an ocean.  
Two incredibly strong bloodlines merged into one feisty little frame as though even the Fates wanted him to succeed in this.  
Yes, she was perfect for what he wanted.  
Kneeling down beside her on the floor, he brushed her hair from her face and neck before leaning down toward her neck. It was better this way; she wouldn't remember anything but the vaguest memories. Without hesitation, he bit down into her soft skin with his fangs.

Scara did calm down enough to stop pacing after Astrid talked to her, but instead she just sat on a windowsill and stared out at the horizon, her eyes still the colour of drying blood. She prayed constantly to her own gods, the Egyptians, begging any of them that might exist and would listen to her for protection. But not for herself; for Katrina. She hated that Taylor was right, but she loved the girl, and she didn't want anything to happen to her.  
 _"Please be safe,"_ she mumbled in her native tongue. _"Just till I get there, be safe..."_

Acheron wanted to go home to his wife; he was in so much pain, anything else was torture. But there was more at stake now than just the life of a mixed-blood demigod and the happiness of a Dark-Huntress; the entire world was at stake, and until it was safe, Acheron wouldn't allow himself a moment's rest.  
To his surprise, however, when he went to recruit former Dark-Hunters to fight, starting with Kyrian, he found Soteria already at the house, laughing Kyrian and Amanda about children.  
"Tori?" he frowned. She smiled and stood to kiss him. Then her smile dropped, replaced by an angry scowl.  
"Again, Acheron?" she sighed in irritation, healing him. While he wasn't allowed to heal himself, no part of the agreement stated that someone else couldn't heal him, a fact that pissed Artemis off to no end. "You really need to rework those terms..."  
"If the world survives, maybe," he said, a touch shortly. She grinned then.  
"Way ahead of you, baby," she said, patting his shoulder. "Amanda and Grace agreed to stay behind and take care of the kids, but most everyone else is ready and raring to fight. Oh, and I called in a few favours of my own; Arikos is calling the Dream-Hunters to arms if we need them."  
"We?" he repeated skeptically.  
"You didn't think I'd let you go alone, did you?" she tsked. "We're in this together, for better or worse; it's the terms of our marriage and our life, all aspects included. Now stop standing around, and let's get this started!"

Scara jumped when Zarek's cell rang. He snatched it up, but not in time to stop it from waking up the baby he'd just gotten to go to sleep on his shoulder. The child began fussing and Astrid quickly took him from Zarek so he could talk in peace.  
"What's up?" he answered as Scara caught and held his gaze, waiting intently for word of the plan.  
"Hey, freak," Talon greeted teasingly.  
"What do you need, Celt?" Zarek asked, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in amusement.  
"The better question is, what do _you_ need?" Talon laughed. "A whole bunch of us just flashed or _got_ flashed to Alaska, and since this is your territory, you're kinda expected to lead."  
"Me, lead?" Zarek snorted. "You're looking in the wrong direction; try Ash."  
"I'm here, Zarek," the Dark-Hunter leader said, having taken the phone from Talon. "I need you as my second; you're the only one who's ever actually seen a Dark-Hunter get killed outside of someone dropping their souls or getting minced."  
"Joy," the former Dark-Hunter scowled. "Hold on. Astrid! Keep an eye on the kids; Sebak and I have someplace to be."  
"Be back before sunrise," she called back from somewhere in the house, a squalling child's voice accompanying hers. "And don't forget your weapons. Oh, and say goodnight to your son; he's worried you won't come back."  
"We'll be there shortly," Zarek told Ash, and then hung up. He gestured for Scara to wait and vanished into a room, coming out a few minutes later with a pained, fatherly expression on his face that he almost immediately wiped clear. "Alright, Sebak, let's go rescue the damsel in distress so I can get back to my boring life."

"Be aware; we have no idea what the Mazuko is capable of," Acheron warned. "For all we know, he could well be as powerful as a Chthonian. Watch each others backs, and I'll get us out if things go bad. Our primary objective is getting Katrina out, in one piece, so once that's done, retreat immediately; I don't want to have to give my condolences to anyone's family." He glanced at Julian, who nodded his readiness. "Hold on to your asses, people." Together, he and the demigod flashed the group of former and current Dark-Hunters into space, Acheron's powers guiding them along the path the Mazuko had taken.  
Scara gripped Katrina's sword and prayed she was alright.

Katrina woke again after several hours, and she was sure that at one point Raizen had done something to her. She was proven right when she made it to the bathroom and glanced at the mirror. Quickly, she yanked down the collar of the gown on the left side to get a better look and then cursed; there were clear bit marks on her neck and collarbone and she felt a sudden twinge of pain in her lower abdomen. She braced a hand against the counter and wrapped the other around her stomach as the same twinge became a numbing sensation of pins and needles down her legs, gritting her teeth as she did so.  
She stayed like that until the feeling went away and then set about washing the dried blood off. She was about halfway done when the door opened and she turned to yell at Raizen, but stopped short when seeing it wasn't him. The hair was black instead of white and the eyes weren't the color of spilled blood but rather, _dried_ blood.  
"Katrina!" Scara leapt forward and snatched the girl against her chest, half smothering her since the girl's face was smooshed between her breasts. Before Katrina could react, Scara pushed her back and called over her shoulder. "I've got her!" Then she put her hands to the girl's face, shoulders, arms, checking for injuries. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" Spotting the bite mark, the Dark-Huntress' expression darkened menacingly and her still-red eyes flashed in rage. "I'll kill him!"  
Within thirty seconds of having entered the bathroom, Scara left it, murder on her mind, just in time to bump into Acheron.  
"Move it, Ash," she snarled, "I'm gonna kill him!"  
"Slow down," he ordered sternly. "Where's Katrina? What happened?"  
"He bit her!" she snapped. "I'll rip his throat out!"  
Katrina was really glad the dress was black, she slowly backed away from the door and reached for the wet, slightly bloodied cloth she had used before. Hopefully, only the bite was the only part they figured out... She stopped short when Ash's gaze jumped directly to hers.  
A growl starting behind him before he could say anything and a familiar voice spoke up.  
"Way ahead of you, Huntress."  
Katrina's jaw slightly dropped. "Susanoo?! What the hell...?"  
The storm god snorted. "It's pretty close to midnight, so I got booted out."  
"Yeah, bite me, Storm," Scara scoffed. "He's mine." Acheron sighed, rubbing his temples.  
"Instead of fighting," he said, "why don't you go _find_ him? And stop giving me a headache; I don't need it." Scara glanced anxiously at Katrina, and he shooed her away. "Go; I've got her, and Tori and the others are patrolling, so no one'll get close without someone raising the alarm." Gritting her teeth at another glimpse of the bite, Scara nodded and took off. Acheron waited until Susanoo was gone too before facing Katrina with crossed arms and a firm, unreadable expression.  
The words _oh shit..._ kept playing across her mind as she managed an awkward look. If he didn't kill her, Scara probably would later.  
"...You have exactly sixty seconds to explain yourself," he growled finally. "If you don't, or if your explanation is inadequate, I'll kill you without a second thought."  
The mixed-blood audibly gulped. He probably could kill her if he really wanted to; even though there was the chance she'd survive because of her ancestry, the odds were definitely against it. That thought made her tongue as limp as her knees, and it was a few moments before she could say anything.  
"...I don't know; I can't remember any of it. I think he did it like that-so I wouldn't remember-on purpose." Her voice slowly rose. "I honestly don't know; he asked me when I was fucking asleep! How was I supposed to know this is what it entailed? All I got as an explanation was that he wanted me to continue the bloodline. Great! There are ways to do that without sex; how was I supposed to know he didn't know? Not like I'm a mind reader!" By the end, she was yelling, but she immediately shut her trap when she remember who she was snapping at. She trembled, half with anger, half with fear that she'd gone too far.  
For a long moment, silence reigned, heavy with tension. Acheron watched her with an unnerving, inscrutable gaze.  
Finally, he lifted his hand and crooked a finger for her to follow, the motion leaving no room for argument.  
Katrina gulped, her expression clearly one that said _'gods help me...'_ but followed anyway, her eyes cast to the floor as if walking to her execution. Which she very well could be.

Scara tried to ignore the storm god's presence as she scoured the place for any sign of the tall, white-haired Mazuko.  
"How do you expect to beat him anyway if you're completely mortal?" Susanoo asked eventually. She scowled at him, grip tightening on Katrina's sword.  
"Just because I'm mortal right now doesn't mean I can't fight," she pointed out sharply. "My powers don't enhance my physical abilities all that much; I'm an aura perceptionist, which would actually be a great help right now... Physically, I've honed my body through centuries of regular training. When I find him, I _will_ kill him, whatever it takes."  
The Dark-Huntress spun in place, shouting. "You hear that, Mazuko? I, a puny little mortal, am going to kill you! Show me your face, bastard, so I can rip it off!"  
A new male voice chuckled. **"This should be interesting then."**  
"Come on out, bastard," she called, pinpointing where she'd just heard the voice. "Unless you're a coward!" To punctuate the last word, she flicked a number of throwing stars in that direction, spreading them out in case he was still there and tried to dodge.  
Before she could do anything else, she was knocked against the back of the head by blow hard rough to send her to the floor and cause her vision to go blurry. The fall of footsteps came around until they were just in her line of sight and crouched down so she could see them. Her struggled to regain control of her body and stand halted abruptly as, right before her eyes, Susanoo's image fazed out like a hologram and revealed long white hair, lighter skin and bright red eyes.  
Raizen smirked down at the dizzy Dark-Huntress. **"I really do appreciate you coming, mortal. Now the fun can really begin."** Then he delivered another sharp blow to her head which caused her to pass out.

Being mortal _really_ sucked, Scara decided. Her head hurt, and her senses, limited as they were by mortality, spun so much she wasn't sure which way was up. She wasn't even going to mention the fact that she would have noticed the difference between the storm god and the Mazuko if she'd had her powers. Now she had to struggle back to consciousness for whatever dastardly plan the Mazuko had in store for her. Gods, if he'd done this to Katrina...  
With that thought, everything clicked back into place and in working order with a sharp gasp.  
Oh, if he'd done any of this to Katrina, she wouldn't just kill him, she'd destroy him; she'd maim him so much his own mother wouldn't recognize him, and she'd make sure to keep him alive every step of the way, until she'd exacted as much pain as she possibly could, and then, _then_ she'd kill him, in the slowest, most agonizing way she could think of. She'd have him pleading for mercy that would only come when he'd breathed his last.  
Features twisted with rage, she blinked and looked around, searching for the object of her fury.  
She was tied and bound to a chair in a empty room without windows, and strangely, any doors. Which made her wonder how one got in until she remembered who she was dealing with.  
"HEY! You can't keep me in here, _aya_!" Scara shouted, jerking against the ropes. "Even if I don't get free myself, they'll find me! Do you hear me, you mother-fucking bastard? I can't _wait_ to get my hands around your neck, _neket aya_!"  
She strained against the ropes for what felt like an eternity until she finally calmed down enough to think rationally.  
The Mazuko was no doubt much stronger than a human, so trying to wiggle around and untie the knots was basically pointless. Trying to squirm out of them wasn't happening either; they were too tight around her chest. For once, having big breasts was a curse. But that gave her a thought and she inhaled as deep as she could, ropes creaking and breasts protesting the confinement. Ignoring the pain, she held her breath as long as she could, released it quickly, and did it again, hoping to stretch the ropes just enough to push them down and maybe get her arms free.  
 _Just don't let the bastard demon come to get me yet_ , she prayed silently, a tiny bubble of hope rising as a rope nudged downward from the pull of gravity when she exhaled. _A little more; just a little longer...!_  
Her luck proven rotten again when the demon in question appeared in front of her and jerked her head up by her hair.  
 **"Now, now. Can't have you getting away, can I?"** He smirked cruelly.  
"Oh silly me, how could I even _consider_ ruining your oh-so-perfect plan?" she chirped sarcastically. Then she spit in his face. " _Neket aya_... I'll kill you for touching her!"  
He held in a growl, wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed until she started to choke.  
Besides the pain of his grip, her lungs began to burn, begging for oxygen. It started as a gentle heat, but quickly grew into a piercing fire, like her chest was being stabbed continuously with white-hot irons. Dark spots flitted across her vision, growing larger the longer she went without air.  
With a sudden clarity, as though her oxygen-deprived brain had been cleared of contaminants, she realized something; she was still mortal from being rejected, so if she died now, she would really, truly _die_. Unless by some miracle someone returned her soul to her the moment she was dead, then she'd join Tiff in Shadedom and wander the earth, forever hungry, forever thirsty, and never again able to sate either. Never seen by anyone but the most powerful of gods.  
Would Tiff be waiting for her? she wondered. If so, would she be waiting to welcome her, or condemn her? Scara wasn't sure she could take either option, and she certainly wasn't ready to see the woman just yet. She still had things left unfinished, words left unsaid. So she fought. Never mind that it was a losing battle; she fought hard to breathe, to survive, to live. She twisted and jerked under his hold, trying desperately to wrench her neck free just long enough for a breath, a life-saving breath...  
But already, her vision was dimming, her body shutting down. She had to force even the smallest movements, and her head throbbed with every thump of her slowing heartbeat.  
 _Katrina..._ Her body no longer obeyed her commands, and the darkness slowly enveloped her. _I... I'm sorry..._ It was no good; she could hardly form coherent thoughts anymore. _I... I love you._


	13. Chapter 12

Katrina looked around with slight worry. Scara would t take this long, especially if Susanoo was with her... She froze when she saw the god in question appear right next to her.  
"Dear gods!" She yelled in surprise. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!"  
The storm god didn't answer as he looked her over for injuries, which confused her. Hadn't he already seen? Her question was answered when he growled at the bite on her neck.  
"I'm gonna kill him."  
Acheron cursed when he saw the storm god, and Katrina frowned.  
"I thought you and Scara were already hunting for..." She trailed off as it clicked in her mind and her eyes widened in terror. Immediately, Acheron sent a mental call out to everyone who wouldn't freak at hearing his voice in their mind.  
 _"Keep a close eye on everyone near you,"_ he warned. _"The Mazuko can take on other people's forms; spread the word, and don't let anyone out of sight of someone."_  
A dark but calculating look drifted across Susano-o's face. He already knew what his descendant had been told and what she told Acheron, but something didn't seem quite right. He gripped her shoulder and pulled her to him while leaning his head down to her neck. Ignoring the way she blushed and tensed in preparation for a bite, he sank his fangs into her neck right on top of the Mazuko's fang marks. The answer almost immediately came to him when he did, and then he realized his mistake.  
Acheron stopped himself before he ripped Susanoo away from her, his sense that the god knew something he didn't overruling his automatic protective instinct.  
"You gonna explain yourself, Susanoo?" he asked in annoyance, crossing his arms.  
The storm god picked Katrina up and held her to his chest as she drifted off to sleep with a mental push from him to help her recover from blood loss. He let out an aggravated sigh before looking up to Acheron.  
"We just did exactly what he wanted us to; he only made her _think_ he had sex with her while she was unconscious. As you should well know by now, some gods and demons have a natural venom that is automatically pumped into a person's veins, but it doesn't affect anyone normally. Except in Dimitri's case, he affects everybody."  
Acheron waved that off, inconsequential. "Your point?"  
"My point," Susanoo said darkly, "is that there are some human lines that are so sensitive that, if bitten, can cause certain... side effects. In Katrina's case, the bites from both myself and that bastard Raizen will actually cause her to become pregnant on her own. Thankfully they won't mix, so we don't have to worry about anymore mixed-bloods like her running around; one will be my direct descendant, the other, a Mazuko."  
"Fucking..." Acheron growled, gaze shifting skyward as though to seek help from above, though he knew none would come. "This is just great... Where the hell is Scara? Never mind; why am I asking you? You weren't with her... Wonderful; I've got a pregnant harbinger of doom, a missing Dark-Huntress, and a dozen or more non-humans trying to hunt a shape-shifting demon in its home territory. I'm fucking cursed."  
Susanoo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, welcome to the club."

Katrina jerked awake to the whisper that crossed her mind. It was Scara's voice, but it was weak and fading fast. Her body automatically started to struggle against Storm's hold on her, her mind in a panic to try and find the woman's voice again, mentally calling back and trying to tell her to hang on.  
When he didn't immediately drop her, she kicked him in the gut, forcing him to do so, and took off running, shooting down halls and corridors like a bullet from a pistol.  
"Katrina, wait!" Too late, Acheron grabbed for her, but she was already gone. "Shit! Find her; she's going for Scara!" Closing his eyes, he traced the girl's path with his senses, always ending up one step behind her, just around the corner or down the hall. "Where are you going, woman?" he breathed, still trying to catch up.  
She had made it out of sight of both immortals when her clothes changed suddenly, turning into the kind of fighting kimono worn by swordsmen in ancient Japan, dark blue with gold and red armor over top, the sword she'd dropped in Alaska appearing strapped across her back.  
Unknown to anyone, both of Katrina's eyes started to change color, one to red, the other to gold, and a large white streak appeared in her hair, starting from above her right brow and going straight back all the way to the tips. She didn't notice, following the voice in her mind, instinctively knowing just where to go.  
As she ran, she passed Dark-Hunters battling with strange demonic creatures in dead-end corridors and destroyed rooms; no one paid her any mind, focused on protecting each other, in following with Acheron's orders. They called out to each other, shouting in warning or asking for help, but Katrina ignored them; time was running out for Scara, and she wasn't about to waste a single second.

The darkness was closing in rapidly now, no matter how hard Scara fought. In a few moments, she'd join those who'd died before her as a Shade. It was over now.  
Suddenly, there was a sound of crunching, tumbling rubble; heavy panting and a shout. Just as quickly, Scara's throat was released and another large crash sound, followed by loud cursing and the sounds of a short battle.  
She struggled vainly against the darkness, but it was too late; help had come too late.

Raizen stumbled against the broken wall. Abandoning him, Katrina darted to Scara and sliced away her bindings, dragged her from the chair and cradled her to her chest, blade clanging to the ground as she sank to the floor with the Huntress in her lap.  
"Wake up, Scara... Please wake up," she begged quietly. She brushed damp tendrils of Scara's hair back from her face, searching for any sign of life.  
Acheron and Susanoo arrived, the latter immediately pouncing on Raizen as the Mazuko scrambled to his feet. Katrina completely ignored their fight, focused totally on Scara, worried that she'd been too late after all.

She wanted to go back, to wake up. She really did. But she couldn't. The darkness was too tight around her, had too firm a grip. The soft pleas could do nothing to loosen the grip dragging her deeper. She couldn't even form a coherent thought anymore; instead, she expressed the vaguest hint of apology as she faded further into the darkness.

"I was hoping we'd be safe for this," Acheron rumbled, reaching into his coat and pulling out a tiny, ornate box. He held it out to Katrina, who was beginning to get frantic, and opened the lid to reveal the wide, flat disk of engraved gold that pulsed with its own glow. "Her soul. Place the medallion against her Dark-Hunter mark and her soul will return to where it belongs, reviving her." He snapped the lid closed when she reached for it, silver gaze piercing her heterochromic eyes with such intensity they almost seemed to reach her own soul, even through his sunglasses. "It _will_ hurt, both of you. Do NOT drop it, or her soul is forfeit and she'll be cursed to life as a Shade for eternity." Then he slowly opened the box again.  
Katrina nodded in understanding and grit her teeth to hold in as much pain as she could before reaching for it again, almost half expecting Acheron to snap it shut on her fingers for her earlier attitude and embarrassment.  
 _Damn! Fuck all gods!_ His words had done nothing to prepare her for the intense, piercing agony that sparked in her arm when she picked it up. Her grip tightened around it to prevent herself from dropping it as she moved her hand to the base of Scara's back, remembering Taylor's words from before about where her mark was. It almost felt like holding a pure ball of high voltage electricity in one hand, making her tremble in fierce pain, but she forced it to touch Scara's skin.

A bolt of burning electric pain shot through her, splitting the darkness with an ear-rending screech. Or maybe that was her voice. She couldn't feel anything but the agony, hear anything but the screech, or sense anything, period. Icy claws gripped an empty part of her being, as though trying to shred what little sanity and consciousness remained. An equally scorching spear pierced her, plunging straight into the emptiness and searing everything in between. Hot met cold with a blast that threatened to rip her apart.  
But as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone, a perfect warmth filling every fiber of her existence. She felt... full. Complete. Whole.  
No, not quite; a tiny piece of her heart was missing. The piece ripped out by Katrina's callous rejection.  
Scara didn't want to open her eyes. She didn't want to move. She was dead, wasn't she? How long would it take for the hunger to build up, the thirst, to unbearable levels? She'd probably go completely insane long before then. And she'd welcome it; without Amenhapu, without Tiff, without Katrina, she would suffer anyway; why not add insanity to the punishment? She deserved every bit of it.

The pain vanished and Katrina felt Scara breathing regularly against her, but when she didn't wake up, the girl panicked. Had she done it wrong? Was this just a tease by the damn Fates before they ripped her away forever? Her grip tightened around the other woman.  
"Scara. Scara..." Her voice was starting to crack and turning to pleading as hot tears began to fill her eyes. "SCARA!"  
The Dark-Huntress winced, a soft groan rolling off her tongue. She turned her head automatically to compensate for the ringing in her ear, face scrunching as though she'd tasted something nasty before she managed to pry her eyes open just enough to see...  
"...trina..." she wheezed, and promptly began coughing, her bruised throat protesting use so soon. Rolling over, she kept coughing, the coarse movements irritating her throat further. Breathing was a trial, her aching throat demanding relief first. As she slowly began recovering, she heard sounds of what seemed like some sort of battle; people were calling out, shouting to each other or in pain.  
"Ash, get them out of here," someone... Zarek? snapped. "We'll hold them until you get back!"  
"Susanoo, get your ass over here and help!" someone else, a woman, grunted angrily.  
"Busy!" a gruff male replied sharply. "Fucker... Stay down already!"  
"You're gonna be disoriented for a minute," Acheron warned, as she felt him touch her shoulder. The world spun and her stomach twisted in knots, ready to rebel at the slightest wrong movement. She still felt Katrina beside her, and for that, she was thankful.  
"I'll be back," her boss said, casting out his senses to make sure her apartment was clear of threats. "Katrina, don't leave her side; I'll call Taylor and let him know where you are."  
"But it's me he's after!" Katrina burst out, moving to stand. "Once he realizes I'm gone, he might come here looking for us!"  
"I'm shielding your presence," Acheron said. "Just don't use any of your abilities if you can help it. When I get back with Susanoo, we'll figure out how we're gonna train you. For right now, just stay put!" Then he vanished.  
Scara panted, trying to breath past her burning throat, and fumbled for Katrina's hand, forcing herself up and lifting her gaze to meet the girl's.  
"I won't let him touch you," she rasped ferociously, fire snapping in her dark red eyes.  
Katrina started to tear up again as she hugged the Dark-Huntress to her and buried her face into her collarbone. She had almost died and still she was determined to protect her. Shouldn't it be the other way around now?

Taylor paced anxiously, wearing a path in the carpet of his mother's living room. Ever since he'd gotten a call from one of the other Squires about an hour ago that a bunch of former Dark-Hunters were gathering, and that Acheron had been spotted with them, looking ready for a fight, he'd been waiting impatiently for news of his girls. If they hadn't found Katrina, why were they getting ready for battle? Scara was ok, wasn't she? He regretted being so curt with her now; she, like all Dark-Hunters, no doubt had a horrible past, and he wouldn't be surprised if he'd touched on a tender subject for her. He'd never forgive himself if he'd distracted her to the point that she was hurt or even killed because of his words.  
 _Oh gods, just please let them both be ok!_ he pleaded for probably the millionth time in the last hour. His phone rang and he snatched it up eagerly.  
"Are they ok?" he blurted, almost whimpering. "Please don't tell me they're dead!"  
"They're fine," Acheron answered shortly. "I just dropped them off at Scara's place. Get yourself over there and help them out. Make sure Scara gets some rest; she needs time to recover from getting her soul back and coming a hairsbreadth from death."  
"Don't say that!" Taylor squealed, already on his way out the door. "I wouldn't be able to stand it if my Se died!"  
"You're not even listening, Trujillo," Acheron grunted. "Sebak got her soul back; she's not a Dark-Hunter anymore, and you don't work for her."  
"I don't care," he insisted, starting his car and tearing across the city like a madman. "Fire me if you like, but Se and Trina are my number one priority, and I will drop everything to make sure they're happy and healthy." Ash chuckled then.  
"Good, because I'm pretty sure they're going to need you for the next couple of months to years..."  
Taylor frowned, jerking the wheel to avoid running into the car in front of him as it slowed to turn. "Years... What aren't you telling me?"  
"It's-" A shout cut Acheron off; even Taylor heard it on the other end of the line. "Gotta go." He hung up and flung himself back into the fray, where the others were fighting to hold back demons while Susanoo struggled to keep the Mazuko disoriented. "I've got your back, Storm!"

Tires screeched in protest as Taylor squealed to a stop in front of Scara's house, almost not even turning off the car before he jumped out and darted up the driveway. He nearly broke the door slamming through it and looking around frantically for the girls. When he spotted them in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped around each other, he breathed a huge sigh of relief to see them both alive.  
"Thank gods..."  
With much prodding and persuasion, Taylor managed to coax the girls into the bedroom to lie down while he made some tea to settle Scara's stomach and hot chocolate to settle Katrina's nerves. When he brought it in to them, though, Scara was already out cold, arms firmly around Katrina's waist as though she expected the girl to run off again.  
The mixed-blood thanked Taylor and gently blew some of the steam off her drink.  
"Just an FYI, I'm pregnant." She figured it was better to get it out now while Scara was out so his squealing didn't kill her hearing. For a full six seconds, he just stared at her, until the thought finally registered, and then he lit up like the Christmas tree in New York City.  
"Oh my gods!" he squeaked, taking great pains to keep his voice quiet enough that he didn't wake Scara. Then his face fell, delight replaced by horror. "Wait... You didn't get raped, did you? I mean, Se can't... Oh gods, honey; you did, didn't you?" He didn't even let her reply before sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling her into a tight hug. "Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry! I hope Ash and the others kick the crap outta that bastard!"  
"Tay..." Katrina waited until he met her eyes, which he now noticed were two different colors. "I wasn't raped. I was bitten."  
"Then how are you...?" He trailed off in confusion.  
"Apparently, some gods and demons naturally inject a special venom into anyone they bite, though normally there's no effect on the person." She played with a lock of her hair, which still held the large white streak too, as she explained. "My guess is because I'm descended from both a demon and a god, my body and blood is much more sensitive to those venoms, so I get some side effects or something. The Mazuko bit me, then tricked Storm into biting me as well; Susanoo says the venoms won't mix in me though, so I guess that means I'm having twins at least."  
"Oh... Wow," he breathed, sitting back to let it sink in. "Holy... Gods this is crazy..." He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes for a moment, and then glanced at her, his gaze and face strangely void of emotion. "So, how do you feel about all of this?"  
She shrugged. "Alright, I guess. I don't feel much different except a bit more energetic." She happened to glance at the clock and sighed. "Geez, 2am already... Happy effing birthday to me."  
Taylor's soft hazel eyes warmed and he leaned forward to pull her into a hug.  
"Happy 25th, Katrina," he said gently.  
A moment later, a deep growl rumbled in Scara's chest, her hold on the girl tightening enough to pull her away from him.  
"Hands off my woman, Macbeth," she warned drowsily. "I don't care how gay you are; touch her again and I'll make it real difficult for you to top ever again."  
Immediately, he clapped his hands over his crotch, yipping in protest.  
"I need those!" he squeaked, normal humour returning but not quite pushing out the old-timer look of sadness in his eyes.  
Katrina gently swatted her shoulder. "Leave him alone. Or I will make you sleep on the floor!"  
"Ok," she hummed meekly, burying her face in the girl's side. In her half-sleeping stage, she felt like she was in heaven; Katrina hadn't pushed her away yet, and it gave her hope that she wouldn't be rejected again. Or at least, not nearly as harshly.

Breathing heavily, Acheron stepped back from the nearly-dead Mazuko and pushed his hair out of his face as he glanced around the room. The others were finishing off the last of Raizen's demons, and Susanoo had recovered from a surprise attack by a pair of the aforementioned demons, both of whom were now dead at the storm god's feet.  
"Shall I end him?" Acheron asked, leaving the choice with him.  
Susanoo smirked as he stepped forward, patting Ash on the arm. "Nah. I got it. Might not be a bad idea to get everyone together to head back." The Atlantean nodded and headed off to gather the others. Once everyone cleared the room, Susanoo's light expression melted away to unsated fury.  
"You've been causing me a lot of problems throughout the millennia..." he growled, pausing to summon a familiar red-sheathed blade to his hands; pulling the sword out of its sheath, his grip becoming white-knuckled around the black and white handle. "Now it finally ends."  
Raizen chuckled darkly. "That's what you think."  
"What?" The storm god glared.  
An amused, evil smirk was his answer. "You think I'm the last, but that is where you are wrong."  
"Katrina can control her rage, unlike you. And I have no doubt she'll raise the child you have her the same." Without further hesitation, he slew the last pureblooded Mazuko. Wiping the blade, he slid it back into its sheath before turning to leave. If, by chance, the demon was right, that this wasn't over, at least he knew where to start.

Acheron made sure everyone was safely back in their homes or under the care of Squire doctors, their various loved ones nearby. Then he twined his fingers with Tory's and flashed to the entryway of Scara's place.  
"...hungry yet, Se?" Taylor was asking, voice coming from in the bedroom. "You're back in the land of mortals now, so you can actually starve to death; let me get you something to eat."  
"Good idea," she mumbled. "Shoo." The Squire came out of the bedroom, chuckling, and jumped in surprise when he saw the couple by the door.  
"Gods, Ash, you scared the living daylights out of me!" he gasped, pressing a hand to his chest effeminately as Tory laughed and Acheron snorted.  
"Go away, Ash!" Scara called from the bedroom. "I'm too happy right now for you to remind me about reality!"  
"Hi Ash!" Katrina's voice piped up two seconds later. It lowered a bit when directed at the woman with her. "You gotta be mean to all the guys we come across? Do I seriously need to use the 'no sex for two months' threat on you?"  
"...You wouldn't."  
"I will if I have to!"  
"Ok!" the Egyptian squeaked. Tory laughed and jabbed at Acheron's side, making him grunt and catch her hand.  
"Sounds like someone else I know," she giggled, giving him a sidelong smirk.  
"Yehh... very funny," he said blandly, though he couldn't stop the small smile tugging at his lips. Then he turned to Taylor. "The girls alright?"  
"I suppose," the Squire shrugged amiably, heading for the kitchen again. "Scara looks like she's ready to sleep for the next century..."  
"That's the plan," she called out, voice muffled by Katrina's shirt. All three chuckled.  
"And Katrina's already on the upswing," Taylor continued, pulling foodstuffs out of the fridge to make a hearty meal. "You haven't assigned me to a new Dark-Hunter yet, have you? I'd like to stick around and help the girls out until they get settled and everything. And, admittedly, I'm not ready to go back to work yet." He grinned, unashamed.  
Katrina managed to get away from Scara long enough to zip out of the bedroom and tackle-hug Taylor around the waist. "Yeah! I wanna keep my yoai buddy! Scara don't like it that much..."  
Taylor yelped in surprise even as Scara made an loud, indecipherable grunt of annoyance. He recovered quickly and laughed, wrapping his arms around her and hugging back.  
"Honey, that's one thing we'll always have that Se doesn't get," he said, raising his voice toward the end to make sure Scara heard. He waited a moment and was rewarded by a soft muttering about lunacy.  
"No new assignments yet," Acheron admitted, smiling lightly. "But it'll be soon; I need you back out there."  
Tory giggled and took Acheron's arm.  
"We'll leave you three alone," she smiled.  
"Oh, Taylor?" Acheron said, pausing. "Call Demetrius when you get the chance, to let him know his sister's OK." With that, he and Tori flashed back to their own home. Katrina laughed.  
"And maybe about possibly seeing each other," she added with a knowing smirk. "Oh, that reminds me; Storm's out of my head and back in his own body now. Should be popping over any minute now to return something, so you two can have fun before you latch onto Demetrius." She winked.  
"Oh, girl, you're tempting me," Taylor tsked, grinning. "Let me finish your food before he gets here, or it's gonna be the last thing on my mind!"  
"Not in my house, you don't!" Scara called warningly. "I still can and _will_ cut off any dick I see in my home!"  
Katrina laughed and called back, "Storm already knows, so he may just abduct Tay for a few hours."  
"Good," the former Dark-Huntress snorted, appearing in the doorway of the bedroom. Her clothes where messy, rumpled from everything that had happened, and her hair was pulling loose from the braid, frizzy tangles hanging around her tanned face. She pushed strands out of her dark red eyes as she leaned against the frame. "That gives me a few hours alone with you."  
The mixed blood rolled her eyes. "That's what you think. I personally just wanna take a long HOT shower."  
"Why not take one together?" Taylor grinned. For once, Scara didn't call him out or argue; instead, she smirked.  
"It'll save on the water bill," she pointed out, eying Katrina up and down.  
Katrina rolled her eyes. "While I'm sticky with sweat and covered in blood? I don't think you're gonna like the taste of that."  
"Bitch, I could care less," Scara rumbled, pushing away from the door and going over to pull the girl against her. "You could be covered in mud and I'd still think you taste like heaven." Leaning down, she captured Katrina's lips, but the kiss was tentative, uncertain; she still expected the girl to shove her away, slap her, demand what she thought she was doing.  
While the mixed descendant was a little annoyed to still be called 'bitch,' she did kiss Scara back and relief flooded her as she pulled the short young woman closer and deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue across Katrina's and licking the roof of her mouth.

Taylor smothered a giggle as he finished two thick chicken sandwiches and set them in plain sight before slipping past them and moving quickly and quietly for the door to leave them alone.  
Outside, he was greeted by a very tall and extremely sexy male. Long blue black hair tied in a high ponytail like an ancient Japanese samurai, tan skin and molten gold eyes, and decked out in a black button down tucked into grey-scale camouflage pants. He gave Taylor a smirk. "Heard you were looking for me."  
The Squire's eyes widened as they traveled slowly from boots to hair before dropping to meet seductive gold eyes. And here he'd thought cobalt blue was the sexiest colour on earth.  
"Oh..." his hand went to his chest in a vain attempt to slow his increasing heart rate "...my..." he really hoped it wasn't too plainly obvious how hard he'd just gotten "...god..." he breathed finally. _Just don't faint and we're all good..._  
Susanoo chuckled as he stood up straight from where he had been leaning against the wall, reaching behind the Squire to place a red-sheathed blade in the entryway of the house before pulling the door shut and locking it with his powers. Wrapping an arm around the young human male's waist, he gave a small smirk. "My place or yours?"  
"Can't be mine," Taylor answered automatically, still entranced by the god's eyes. "Jenny would have a heart attack if she saw me with someone like you..."  
"Then mine it is," he said slyly before pulling the young man to him and teleporting them; it was the easiest and fastest route, especially since the young man already knew of the supernatural and the fact that he was a god.  
The disorientation of spacial displacement served to distract Taylor from Susanoo's eyes and he turned his attention to the incredibly-well muscled chest under his palms. He ran his hands down the god's chest to his toned abs, intrigued.  
"I think I might just die a happy man tonight," he hummed, a sing-song note in his voice.  
Susanoo chuckled and used a hand to tilt his face up. "You haven't seen _anything_ yet." That said, he leaned forward the couple inches it took to kiss the young man.

"I think I love you." The words slipped past Scara's lips unbidden and for a split second, she froze, an icy chill running up her spine. She wanted to take the words back, but... No. No, she didn't want to take them back; it was true, and it was time she admitted it. To everyone, herself included.  
"No, that's not right," she said softly, pulling back to meet Katrina's heterochromic gaze. "I _know_ I love you. You've messed me up, turned me around, and I can't think straight anymore, especially when you're around. I look at you, and I don't want to have sex with you, I want to make love to you. I don't want to help you, I want to hoard you. I can't stand seeing anyone touching you, even just to hug you. When you ran away, I thought I'd die if I couldn't find you, and every minute you were gone, I was that much closer to insanity..." Her gaze dropped to the side before the girl could see the agony in it, and her voice fell almost to a whisper, trembling. "And when you screamed at me, I could hear every painful thing I've ever heard all over again... Every insult, every curse, every desperate cry for help... I felt what was left of my heart shattering, and I'd just finished piecing it together again..." Moving her hands to cup Katrina's face, she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the girl's, her voice falling completely to a whisper now. "Katrina, I've never truly been in love, not really. When I was mortal, in Egypt, I was betrothed to a man much older than I was, and by fifteen, I'd given birth to a little boy. I never loved my husband, but I respected him, and I had hoped that maybe one day that respect would grow into at least a semblance of love. The only real love I knew was for my son, my Amenhapu. And then he was taken from me. Both of them, and my life, ripped away from me. Because of them, I became a Dark-Hunter. I didn't trust anyone, for centuries. Until Tiff destroyed my barriers with simple friendship. I think I might have come to love her, given time, but because of me, she died. I can't lose you too, Trina... I can't..." She broke off in a sob.  
Katrina felt her eyes watering and she hugged the former Huntress around the waist, squeezing her gently.  
"Please..." Scara choked out, pulling the girl close. "Please... Say something... Say you love me, that you'll never leave... Even if it's not true, t-tell me... tell me..."  
There was a moment of silence before Katrina spoke up quietly. "I love you, too. I won't leave you as long as you don't leave me..." She grabbed one of Scara's hands and pressed it to her stomach. "Please, I don't want to raise them alone." She knew she hadn't told Scara that she was pregnant; she'd been out when Katrina told Taylor the news.  
The former Dark-Huntress started and frowned in confusion, looking down at the girl's flat, well-toned stomach. Then understanding dawned in her eyes.  
"He didn't..." Her features twisted in a ferocious snarl. "That _BASTARD_!" Immediately, she pulled the girl against her, wrapping her in a tight hug. "Oh Katrina, I'm so sorry! I should have stopped him! I should have killed him!"  
Katrina let out a slightly irritated sigh. "He didn't rape me; just bit me."  
"What?" Pulling back, Scara frowned. Then she shook her head. "Never mind; I'm too pissed for any explanation of the supernatural right now..." Faltering, she dropped her gaze to the girl's stomach. Pain flickered in her eyes, but also fondness, hope. Crouching, she pressed a soft kiss to one side of her stomach, then the other, and then rested her forehead against the space between, resting her hands on the girl's hips. "I swear, as long as I live, no one will harm them; they'll be as much my own children as Amenhapu, and I won't ever let them want for anything if I can help it. On my honour as a D- ...As a former Dark-Huntress."  
Katrina smiled and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. "I'm sure they will move you just as much as Amenhapu did."


	14. Epilogue

**_Eighteen months later  
_** Scara smiled in her sleep, the odd, piecemeal dream fading as her consciousness took over. This was it; the perfect moment of peace between mindless sleep and the havoc of the day ahead of her. It had taken almost a year to acclimatize to being awake during the day and asleep at night; two thousand years of habit wasn't easy to break. But she'd done it.  
And of course, it was just in time for her sleep cycle to get destroyed by the birth of Katrina's twins; those first two months had been hell, waking up at all hours to take care of them when their squalling threatened to wake the neighbors. The third month had been spent training everyone to sleep at night and leave the chaos for during daylight hours, child and adult alike. Taylor had been a major help with that, since he had a dozen or so nieces, nephews, and cousins that he'd helped raise since he was a kid himself.  
Over the last six months and some-odd days, Scara Behdeti Tachibana-Sebak had reopened her mother's heart and done whatever was needed to help Katrina with the transition. The girl had never been a mother before and, without any younger siblings-or older ones for that matter-had no idea how to raise kids. Scara, having taken care of Amenhapu from womb to age 10, had at least some idea of what it would take, even though her experience was thousands of years out of date, and thus did most everything the first time to make sure it felt right before teaching Katrina.  
Shifting in the bed, she felt one of the twins' toys under her elbow and sleepily pushed it off the bed and onto the floor. The _clunk_ must have alerted the kids she was awake, because a moment later, two squealing bundles padded their way into the room.  
She regretted having taught them to walk last month.  
Katrina chuckled under her breath as she came to the doorway. She and Scara had talked about possibly going to a sperm bank and having another kid, but had decided that, if they did, it would definitely wait until the two boys were at least in kindergarden.  
Jaden and Storm were their names. She still recalled the demon broker's face when she ran the information by him; it had been hysterical. She smiled at the memory. When he asked her why she chose it, she simply smiled and said she couldn't think of any better name and it was her way of saying 'thank you' for helping them when he did. Scara had laughed her ass off when the broker blushed.  
"Hey Storm," Scara smiled tiredly, shifting to reach out to him without leaving the bed. He giggled and toddled up to grab her hand, shaking it hard up and down as though begging her to get out of bed and play with him, and making nonsensical noises. She chuckled. " _Mwet_ 's tired, baby; I just woke up. Go ask Momma to play with you." Seeming to understand, Storm smiled that big, adorable baby smile with all his little baby teeth. Both boys had just finished teething, and for that, Scara was absolutely grateful. They still chewed on things every once in a while, but it was much better than being bitten every time she put a finger in one of their mouths to make sure they weren't choking.  
In that, they had far exceed their peers; Scara had discovered recently that most children their age hadn't even started teething. It seemed par for the course with the twins, since they were sort of walking already, too. Probably their unusual blood ties had something to do with that.  
Sitting up, she stretched groggily and yawned, relaxing just as little Jaden patted her leg and raised his arms to be picked up. Spotting Katrina at the door, she smiled brightly as she leaned down to pick up the boy. Lifting him to her hip as she stood, she went over and laid a soft kiss on the girl's mouth.  
"Morning," she breathed, expression soft. Then Jaden slapped his tiny hands against her cheek and she laughed, facing him. "Good morning to you too, Jay."  
Katrina giggled, having picked up Storm a moment ago. Storm always seemed fascinated with his Momma's hair, how she had the white streak that contrasted the rest of her hair. He also loved to play with it, as he was doing now, which Taylor took as a sign of the toddler's agreement that Katrina had the healthiest hair ever.  
Both boys inherited their Momma's black hair with blue shine but Jaden had inherited a streak of white as well that started above his right brow and zig-zagged back from there. That and his heterochromic blue and red eyes were an obvious sign of his Mazuko heritage. His twin, on the other hand, had one blue eye, one gold eye, and a birthmark on the base of his neck in the shape of a storm cloud struck through by a single bolt of lightning.  
Needless to say, Scara was the only one currently in the family with the same colored eyes.  
Storm giggled and stuck his tongue out at his twin, who returned the gesture, causing both women to laugh.  
"They are going to be such troublemakers," Katrina grinned before looking up to Scara with a mischief light in her eyes. "If we ever end up with a girl, I almost feel sorry for the poor boys who try to hit on her."  
"Forget what these two would do," Scara snorted. "I'm the one they should be scared of; nobody's getting near any child of mine unless I allow it." Jaden sputtered bubbles, and then giggled like he'd just done something amazing. Scara laughed and pulled up the bottom of her shirt to wipe the spit from his chin. "Look at you; you're making a mess, silly boy."  
The doorbell rang, and both women glanced over to see Taylor waving through the window with a grin. As though not to be outdone, Scara's cellphone chimed, and she glanced over her shoulder into the room.  
"Come on in, Taylor!" she called, and then hurried into the room to find the phone.  
"Hey, sweetie!" Taylor greeted Katrina, kissing her cheek. "I brought over some diapers, because last time I was here, the boys were nearly out. Oh, and Jenny sends her love, as well as..." he pulled out two cream envelopes with gold edging on the sealed flap "...invitations to her wedding." The Squire was grinning like a madman, delighted for his sister's sake. "She wanted to be sure you and Scara got the invites, and she even threatened to castrate me if I didn't hand-deliver them." Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he took Katrina's free hand and placed the envelopes in it. "Now she can't make good on that threat." While the girl laughed, he turned to Storm, beaming. "Hi, Stormy! Come give Auntie Tay a hug!"  
"Katrina," Scara called, cellphone against her chest as she carefully set Jaden down and made sure the boy wasn't about to fall over before turning a stoic expression on the girl. "Can you spare a minute? I need to talk to you about something."  
Katrina, worried, nodded and handed Storm to Taylor, who little Jaden followed as they went to the kitchen. The young mother walked over to her life partner.  
"What is it?"  
"Just a potential job," Scara answered calmly. "I just don't want to make this decision without you... Ash has been keeping an ear to the ground for anything I might be able to do, something to help support you and the kids; my Dark-Huntress savings won't last forever."  
"So what's the offer?" In answer, she nodded toward the kitchen, where Taylor was chattering on in that voice people reserved for children and small dogs.  
"I could work with Taylor, as a Squire," she explained. "Ash said it was sort of a last resort that he kept for former Dark-Hunters who couldn't find work elsewhere. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly the type of person who can integrate; you, Tay, and the boys, that's about as far as my goodwill can stretch."  
Katrina smiled, relieved. "Actually, Ash gave me a few names of Dark-Hunters to check out a little while ago. And there's one being moved to the area that I think you would get along with just fine." She reached into her pocket to dig out a sticky note she wrote the name on. "We chatted quite a bit over the Dark-Hunter site and all he really asks for is some interaction with others. He is like Zarek in the sense that he was stuck in isolation by himself for a long time, so he's nervous about being among people again. Then there's running the occasional errand, obviously, and that's about it." She unfolded the note to reread the name again as she added. "Even offered for us to stay at the mansion where he'll be living, free of charge." She took a moment to figure out how to pronounce the name. "Cináed Dùbhghlas MacNiel is his real name, but he goes by Crosda."  
"You seriously went behind my back with Ash?" Scara asked rhetorically, humour in her eyes belying her raised eyebrow. "You really are a bitch." Quickly pecking the girl's lips, she lifted the phone back to her ear. "Ash? ...Yeah, Trina just told me about him. Text me the address and I'll head over as soon as I can... Sure, whatever, _aya_ ; I'll get you back for going over my head, just wait and see." Then she hung up, smiling lightly down at the one person she loved more than anything else in the world as she slid her arms around the girl's waist. "I ever tell you how much I love you?"  
"Every day," Katrina giggled.  
"Good, because it's true," Scara smiled, kissing the girl's forehead. "I don't know where I'd be without you, _hemet imi-ib_."  
"Love you too, _watashi no ai_."

* * *

A/N: You've reached the end of _Blood Storm_! Thank you so much for reading. For more Dark-Hunter fanfiction by BDV and myself, check out our profiles. BDV will be posting another finished product sometime soon, so be sure to watch for it.

If you enjoyed this fanfic, please leave a review; BDV and I would both love to hear your thoughts.

Until next time,

ME.B


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